The Tale of Jeremy Fitzgerald
by RealisticPhantasm
Summary: Jeremy just wants a job to help make ends meet, and this elite night club "Freddy's" is the only place that's willing to hire him. Though he may have gotten caught in a huge mess he shouldn't have wandered into... ((Human gangster au))
1. It's Just an Interview, right?

"So... Mr. Fitzgerald..." The Mexican man muttered, scanning over the application in one hand while the other hand tapped on the desk.

Jeremy sat in a chair in front of Mr. Fonseco's desk as straight up as he could. He was dressed in his best dress shirt and tie and his long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It wasn't anything special, but it was the best he could due for being temporarily unemployed and living by himself in the slums of the city. At least he could afford a good shave and a decent cologne, unlike some of the bums who lived around his apartment. He was lucky to not be one of them himself by now.

"Why'd you want this job?" His possible future boss asked, looking back up at Jeremy with a nonchalant, almost bored, expression. Jeremy couldn't help but get temporarily distracted by the faint smell of cigars in the office. He began craving a cigarette himself, but kept his face expressionless. He would pick up another carton on his way home from work, he decided. He cleared his throathougre speaking.

"I'm currently unemployed and I need to pay bills and buy food," He stated bluntly, "If possible, I could start working this upcoming Monday."

"Ah yes, you were caught up in that mess... Heh, I could see why no other company would want ya."

The other man let out a snort of humor, and Jeremy forced a chuckle.

"And you were officially let out? You're not some sort of escaped convict?"

"Yes sir."

"And you were kicked off the police squad? All that has been dealed with?"

"Yes, I included that in my resume."

"Good," Fransisco said, his tone getting suddenly dark and serious as he leaned a bit closer to Jeremy, "With this company's history, I couldn't afford having an undercover cop working right under my nose."

Jeremy stiffened. _'Wait, history? I know I've heard things about the previous owners, but these guys couldn't be the same...'_ He thought, trying hard to keep looking Mr. Fonseco in the eyes and not show a drop of fear.

"H-History?" He asked for clarification. Mr. Fonseco suddenly began howling with laughter, sitting back in his chair in his laughing fit. Jeremy cocked an eyebrow.

"Estoy bromeando, estoy bromeando!" He laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes, "Just kidding. I was messing with you."

Jeremy felt his fear boil into internal anger. He wanted to slug the other man if he was anybody other than the man he was trying to impress. He would give the heavy man a black eye if the same man wasn't determining if Jeremy would be on the streets within the next few weeks or not. So he decided to just fake a laugh in response.

"You are a good man, good man," Mr. Fonseco said after finally calming down, "I needed a laugh. Anyways, your record is a bit shady, but I like you. Good attitude, but you have respect. And you have quite the muscles. I'd assign you as a bouncer if we had open spots... but you seem to be okay with the night shift, yes?"

"Yes, Mr. Fonseco," Jeremy nodded.

"Please, call me Fransisco, my boy. I hate it when workers act so formal around me. I feel like a teacher in school."

Jeremy blinked with disbelief. Did he hear him correctly? "Wait, did you say 'worker'?" He asked.

Fransisco gave a toothy grin. "Si," He replied, "Are you able to come in for training tomorrow? I know it's short notice, but we need somebody for night watch as soon as possible. It's been chaos without the night guard, and poor Giffiths has been working double shifts after the guy left."

Jeremy was still in utter disbelief. All he could do was nod in response, not really thinking about how strange it was to be hired during an interview. Though the thought didn't stay in his mind long; he needed to buy food and pay his bills as soon as possible.

"Good, good!" Fransisco said in a golly voice, "You come here around, eh, noon tomorrow. Griffiths will give you a uniform and the basics." He stuck out a hand across the desk and Jeremy shook it firmly, trying to hold back his joy.

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Fitzgerald."


	2. Training and a Bit of Nostalgia

Jeremy was lucky to avoid lunch rush traffic and arrived a few minutes before noon the following day. He wore the same outfit as yesterday (after washing it, of course) and hoped his new boss understood his financial situation enough to let it slide. He pushed open the double doors and stepped into the establishment, the AC current hitting him in the face upon entering.

Freddy's was a large building that looked more like a 1920's theater than an elite night club. There were dozens of tables and several expansive booths around the floor, each with a candle and tablet cloth sitting upon it. A bar was to Jeremy's far right that sported an array of various alcohols sitting on the shelf and a wood countertop with stools lining the bar area. There was what Jeremy assumed to be a private loft on a second floor with railings to overlook the first floor. The stage in the far back wall of the room had a half circle stage and had red velvet curtains that were currently closed across the stage.

Jeremy was met by a man who came from a door near the stage not too long after stepping in. The man was eastern Asian and had messy black hair, thick-framed glasses, and a bit of noticeable pudge. He wore a nametag on his blue uniform that simply said "Payton" in black font.

"You must be the new night guard!" Payton said in a cheerful voice and stuck out his hand, "The name's Payton. Payton Griffiths. I'm your new teacher for the next hour."

"Jeremy Fitzgerald," Jeremy replied as he shook the other's hand. Damn, he has a sweaty palm, he thought.

"Boy, I sure was getting worried we'd never find another night guard. I've been working my ass off, and the wife's been at my throat for it. The old guy, he left so suddenly… he, uh, moved over to Michigan, I-I think. It's a damn shame- he was really nice guy… Anyways, it's great you're part of us now!"

Jeremy just nodded mindlessly, looking around the place without really listening to Payton.

"Yeah, isn't this place beautiful?" Payton continued, looking around in admiration, "The boss said this used to be an old theater back in the 20's, but the previous owners gutted most of the place out and redid the whole thing."

'What happened to them?" Jeremy asked, "The previous owners."

"Not sure. The boss said they, uh, went bankrupt, o-or something. I can't remember, he told me so long ago. But the rumors you've probably heard are just a load of bull, I can tell you that." Payton was fidgeting his hand throughout the entire conversation. There was a moment of silence between the two before Payton spoke up again. "Here, lemme just show you around."

Right as Payton was talking, the door Payton came through earlier opened once more. A black woman with a cloud of brown curly hair on her head, bright pink lipstick, and a giant purse over her shoulder came through. She stopped when she saw Jeremy and furrowed her brows.

"Jeremy…?" She muttered. Jeremy was puzzled as well- he felt like she looked familiar, but then it finally hit him. That large puff of hair and vibrant lips were positively unmistakeable.

"Fritz?"

Fritz ran up to Jeremy and practically threw herself into a hug on him, nearly knocking the other off his feet. She let go of him after giving a squeeze and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Is it really you?" Fritz said, "Oh my god, it's been so long! You're practically the same as you were in high school, but you've definitely been working out- your bicep is as thick as my neck!"

"Heh, you've changed a lot yourself," Jeremy replied. Fritz had become a very pretty young woman over the years- no more glasses, no braces, and her pear-shaped figure had filled her out quite nicely. Though her exuberant and loud personality remained the same as always.

"You two, uh, know each other?' Payton piped up, looking between the two.

"Are you kidding?" Fritz exclaimed, "We were so tight in high school. We-" Fritz stopped her thought and thumped herself on the head in a 'duh' moment. "Oh yeah, you're supposed to be in training. Sorry, sorry. I'm just so happy to see you again. Uh, how about meet me at Starbucks down the street after your training? When does he get out, Pay?"

"Um, about one? Maybe earlier," Payton replied, scratching behind his head.

Fritz clapped her hands together. "Great! Sound good, Jer?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Jeremy replied. He waved at Fritz as she headed out the door, still a bit disoriented from this sudden rush of nostalgia.

"She's a loud one, isn't she?" Payton muttered as he watched Fritz leave, then turning to Jeremy, "Come one, I'll give you the grand tour."

They two men both went through and disappeared through the stage door.


	3. Catching Up and Short Tempers

Jeremy went over to the sleepy coffee shop at the corner of the street as soon as his training was finished. He was tired of hearing Payton's non-stop talking and side stories about his wife; a smoke would calm his nerves after his coffee. Though if Fritz really hasn't changed after all these years, then she'll gab just as much as Payton. He groaned to himself as he walked through the door hooked up to a bell that rang as it opened.

Sure enough, Fritz was sitting at a round table near the back with a cup of tea in her hands and her purse plopped next to her chair. She waved excitedly at Jeremy and Jeremy returned the wave in a much calmer manner before sitting down perpendicular to the woman.

"Not ordering anything?" Fritz asked.

Jeremy shook his head and muttered something about "no money." He didn't feel like elaborating on his borderline poverty lifestyle at that moment. Fritz just nodded in understanding and sipped her tea as she looked around the shop.

"So, how was training?" Fritz asked curiously, "Did Pay Pay show you the all ritz?"

"Yeah," Jeremy replied, propping his head up on his hand, "Jesus Christ, and I thought you talked a lot. If I heard one more story about his wife I would've strangle the fucker."

"Oh my god, I know, right? He's just a running tape of speech- he never really shuts up. He just loves Erika and telling stories about her. I can see why; she's so cute and kind and just perfect wife material. Though I feel so bad for her..."

Jeremy looked back up at Fritz and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, Payton's been doing lots of overtime lately to help the boss and temporarily fill in missing security guard positions. I've heard him apologize over and over on the phone to her multiple times before. But Payton makes good money, and Erika's a nurse-in-training right now, so they're really at a dilemma. God, I just hope she's not pregnant."

Jeremy nodded as he listened intently, then staring out the closest window at the people walking down the sidewalk outside as they both sat in temporary silence. Fritz tapped her pink-painted finger nails on the table and finished off her tea.

"So..." Jeremy started again, "How's life?"

"Oh... it's pretty good," Fritz responded, "I'm finally able to live without my rude roommate in my own apartment. Man, she was just so lazy and was always bringing over her boy toy to have quick fucks." She momentarily paused to sigh, mutter something to herself, and run her fingers through her curly hair. "But I can't complain- this job has treated me pretty good. I've stayed in line, and it's gotten me a few reasonable raises and I've been pretty happy doing what I do."

Jeremy nodded, folding his muscular arms and leaning back in his chair.

"How about you?" Fritz inquired.

The Native American's chest tightened as the question rolled off her plush lips. How the hell was he supposed to answer this? Yeah, I was nearly thrown into prison for just about life for manslaughter and I got off by the skin of my teeth but it made my life a living hell. Also my family disowned me and I barely had enough money to feed myself every day and pay bills until recently, because everyone totally wants to be roommates with a nearly convicted murderer.

But he couldn't say that.

"It's been shit," He grumbled bitterly, "That fucking murder thing fucked up my life."

God, he needed a cigarette and beer right now.

"M-Murder?" Fritz questioned, "Wait... I could of sworn I heard your name on the news a while ago. Didn't you..."

"Almost got thrown into prison because of close manslaughter charges," Jeremy finished through gritted teeth.

"Oh... I, um... did you actually, y'know..." Fritz said in her quickly changed tone of voice.

Jeremy suddenly harshly slammed his fist on the table. "I don't wanna talk about it!" He snapped. Fritz jumped, looking stunned, and some of the coffee shop customers glanced the two's way before quickly going back to their own business.

Fritz just nodded and sat in silence, staring at the floor to avoid further eye contact. Jeremy let out a huff of mixed frustration and annoyance with the woman sitting across from him and looked out the window once more. How could she actually be surprised by Jeremy's short temper by now? Did she really think Jeremy would tell her the whole story of how his life was utterly ruined in full detail in the middle of some dinky coffee shop? 'She's smart, but also so god damn ditzy at the same time,' He thought to himself. He turned his head to watch the barista work as quick as a bee to fill out a new customer's order to distract himself from the tense silence.

Fritz finally spoke up after a minute. "Did you happen to see Cheyenne while training?" She asked meekly, "I know she was up early today? Her tone had definitely lost a majority of its cheerfulness. Jeremy snapped to attention at the sudden question and turned his head to face Fritz.

"Cheyenne?" He said with furrowed brows.

"Um, she's pretty large in some... areas..." Fritz made a cupping motion over her own chest as if to finish her sentence.

Jeremy thought… He remembered while Payton was showing him the controls of the cameras, a girl had passed by the office. She had given Jeremy a one second glare before turning around away from the office and into the right hallway. "Brown hair with streaks? Thick thighs?"

"No one else like that around there. Damn, one day I would love to motorboat those tits, even just for a few seconds!" Jeremy glared at Fritz to quiet down, and the woman got the message pretty quickly. She lowered her volume but couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "And she's got a great ass too. Genetics must've really graced her."

Jeremy snorted in laughter. "Yeah, but I wouldn't be surprised if she got a boob job in the past."

"Oh, they're real," Fritz corrected, "Too bad she's one of our bosses, though…"

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "One of our bosses?"

"Well… let's just say she's one of Fransisco's 'closer business partners,' or at least that's what he calls it. He's got three in total, at least I think."

"That sucks," Jeremy agreed, "I think she's way bigger than your girlfriend during senior year. What happened to her anyways?"

"Oh, Claire?" Fritz said, "We broke up about a month after graduating. She was moving down to a school in Florida, and it just wasn't working out for us. She was real flaky and went partying without me like there was no tomorrow. I didn't want any of that crap."

Jeremy shrugged. "She didn't seem too bad, aside from how many people she slept with during those four years."

"She didn't sleep with as many people as she claimed to," Fritz reminded him, "Plus, there's nothing wrong with how many dicks she's sucked in her life. Though her doing the occasional weed and crack was a bit of a problem…"

Jeremy smirked. "I told you that you were making a mistake."

Fritz folded her arms over her chest and copied Jeremy's smirk. "And we're going to forget that horny seventeen year-old Jeremy Fitzgerald just wanted to get in her pants?" She teased.

The two laughed and continued to reminisce about people from their high school days and other small talk for over an hour. Fritz told Jeremy all about some of their former friends and what they were up to. It spiked some envy in Jeremy to hear about their successes, but he was still interested too. It was almost as if nothing had changed and they were back to their pimple-faced, horny teenaged selves again. Fritz had ordered banana nut muffin during this time and offered to buy Jeremy something, though he declined, despite his persistent growling stomach.

Jeremy checked his flip phone. The clock read '2:47.' 'Damn, that went by quick,' He thought. "Sorry, Fritz, I gotta go."

Fritz raised her eyebrows and stopped talking right in the middle of a story about her old roommate. "Aw, why?" She whined, pouting playfully, "Sick of my voice already? You're so mean, Mr. Fitzgerald."

Jeremy groaned. "No, no. I just need to go do some errands," He lied. He did enjoy talking to Fritz, but just really wanted to go buy some smokes and beer. Though now that he thought about it, he probably should pick up some groceries this week's meals on his way home too.

"Oh, well," Fritz said, "Lemme give you my phone number if you ever wanna meet up again." She slowly said her phone number to Jeremy and he punched it into his phone (not like he would most likely be using the number in the future). "Oh, and Jer?"

Jeremy looked down at her. "What?" He mumbled.

"I… Whatever happened during that incident, I'm gonna trust your word. I don't think too less of you." She gave Jeremy a small sympathetic smile.

Jeremy nodded. "Yeah…" He muttered, "See ya later."

He promptly left the coffee shop and began making his way down the street. He felt like punching something after Fritz's obvious lie. She was too nice for her own good, and always tried desperately to look for the good in people even when it's not there. Jeremy couldn't stand this aspect of her.

But it was nothing to keep lingering in his thoughts; he'd decided just pick up his things and relax at home until work on Monday.


	4. The First of Many, Many Nights

Sunday had passed and Monday had come around before Jeremy even knew it. The weather was the usual hot and sticky June, and Jeremy was wearing a faded band t-shirt and boxers for his home attire. He figured there was no point of getting dressed for a majority of the day; his shift started at midnight, and he'd probably just be sleeping and eating at home before that anyways, so there was no point.

It had been pouring rain all day, banging mercilessly on his windows and making miniatures pools in the potholes on the road outside his apartment. The storm had even caused a small power outage to the building around noon that day. Though Jeremy wasn't bothered by too much; power outages were normal in his building when bad storms came around. He had been eating a breakfast/lunch consisting of an instant ramen packet and eggs at the time, and the light filtering through his thinly curtained windows was more than enough to see. The power had returned by the time Jeremy was done eating and lazily "washing" his bowl and fork.

After his meal he sat on his couch and stuck a now lit cigarette in his mouth to watch TV. It was Monday, so all that was on were shitty infomercials, reruns of sitcoms, and the news. He decided on the news as he slouched back into the couch.

Right as Jeremy was starting to get comfortable, he heard a loud buzz coming from the kitchen table. He turned his head towards the table at his cell phone which he had left during his meal. It was so long since Jeremy had gotten a call or text that the sound was almost alien to him. He reluctantly got up from his spot and went to go get his phone.

Sure enough, it was a new text message from Fritz. Jeremy groaned. "Fuck, we just reunited yesterday and she's already messaging me," He muttered. He had absolutely no desire to text her back or even read the message, much less have any sort of relationship again. His high school years were some of the best years of his life, but remembering the life he threw away only left him with bitterness and regret running through his veins.

He still refused to believe that Fritz would _really_ ignore all the shit he's gone through and still see him as the mostly pure teenager she used to know. Who could possibly be that naive (apparently Fritz was)?

Still, Jeremy opened his phone to read the message and sent a short response to be polite.

 _-omg did your power go out at your place too? ;-;_

 _-Yeah. Don't text me again. It costs me extra._

 _-Sorry! yeah it went out for about half an hour here. Payton will give you the details l8r ^o^_

"Out of every person from high school, Fritz fucking Smith had to be working at this place," He grumbled bitterly, shaking his head and setting his phone back down on the table.

Jeremy put out his cigarette on the ashtray on the coffee table and lied back down on the couch. He mindlessly watched the news for another hour before drifting back into sleep, mentally preparing himself for his new sleeping schedule to accommodate work.

After a quick meal at around ten o'clock, Jeremy got ready to head to work. He remembered that he would be walking five blocks in most likely rain to work, and he probably wouldn't look his best for his first day on the job. He figured he'd just stick a comb in his pocket to fix up his hair before getting into the establishment. At least his on-foot commute to and from work would be good substitute workout after his gym membership had expired several weeks ago.

Tonight was the first time he had even seen how his uniform fit. To his surprise, he actually liked how his work uniform of a blue shirt, black tie, and black slacks suited him. Plus, the slacks had relatively deep pockets, so he was able to fit his comb, cellphone, cigarettes with a lighter, and pocket taser with relative ease. Jeremy was a relatively muscular and large man, and former police training made him able to defend himself, though he still didn't trust these streets at near midnight- gang violence and muggers weren't anything new to the city.

He left at about 11:25 so he'd have time to spare due to any weather that may arise. Thankfully the only rain that Jeremy experienced on his route was a momentary sprinkle near the end. He had been walking a normal pace, though he had managed to make it to _Freddy's_ by 11:54. Jeremy noticed several expensive-looking cars in front of the establishment and dim lights being seen through the windows.

A burly bouncer that had two full sleeves of tattoos stood in the doorway and glanced over at Jeremy. Jeremy showed the bouncer his name tag, silently cursing to himself for forgetting his wallet that had his ID in it. The bouncer raised an eyebrow.

"New night shift guy?" The larger man asked.

"Sorry, forgot my ID," Jeremy replied with a nod.

The bouncer nodded and stepped out of Jeremy's way almost reluctantly. "Next time come in through the back door during business hours."

Jeremy nodded in understanding. Maybe since he had arrived a few minutes early he'd run into Payton. Jeremy really hoped this wasn't the case; he just wanted to start his shift as soon as possible and have minimal social interaction. With a swift adjusting of his ponytail and necktie, Jeremy pushed through the front doors as inconspicuously as possible.

The lights were dimly lit for the effect of elegance all around the club, except for the much brighter lights at the stage. There were several small groups of expensive looking men and women sitting at the tables and booths in front of the stage, chatting away with one another. The bar was open with a middle-aged man who looked like he was about to pass out sitting behind it.

Someone was playing a piano on the stage, though their back was turned so their face was concealed. Despite the distance, Jeremy could clearly see their completely blue and white ensemble sticking out from the rest of the night club from across the room.

The large rounded booth closest to the bar had quite a few people sitting in it than the other tables. It was about ten yards away, but Jeremy instantly recognized Fransisco in a formal brown suit laughing loudly and talking to the others. He was chattering to the other table occupants while holding a fat lit cigar in one of his hands.

Next to him was a younger girl with brown hair and breasts the size of basketballs, sporting a slimming strapless yellow dress- Cheyenne. She looked extremely bored of all of the others around her as she was holding a skinny glass of white wine with her hand rested on the table. She was the first to notice Jeremy walk in, Jeremy accidentally making eye contact with her. Even from afar, her gaze felt icy and cold.

Cheyenne nudged Fransisco's arm and glanced towards Jeremy's direction to the other, muttering something as well. Fransisco stopped talking to look over at Jeremy. He tilted his head towards the door near the stage and Jeremy got the message rather quickly. With a quick nod of response, he headed towards the far left door.

As Jeremy walked by the stage, he managed to catch a glimpse of the pianist. The man had fair white skin and brunette hair that was neatly styled and bangs that swept across his forehead. He had a vest and button-up shirt combo, both blue, and a red ribbon that hung around the collar. White pants and shoes accompanied his attire. Jeremy couldn't see too past the man's elbows from where he was, but he could've sworn he was wearing gloves.

The man at the piano gave a momentary glance down to Jeremy as he passed by. He raised his eyebrows at the other, almost in a playful manner, before returning to his work.

Jeremy just kept on walking, his cheeks lightly flushed due to the embarrassment of being caught staring. Hell, it was probably just a one-night performer, so it probably didn't matter what that man thought of Jeremy. He promptly opened the door and went down the couple of hallways to the security guard office.

It was a moderately-sized office that sat in the space between two hallways, and had two doors that connected the room the right and left side to connect to those hallways. There was a metal desk with four large drawers and a swivel chair in the middle of it. Numerous security cameras sat on the wall in front of the desk. Other than that and a water cooler in the corner, the room was otherwise empty.

Jeremy sat down in the swivel chair and made a quick check of the security cameras on the monitor. All seemed well- all of the activity was being shown in the three main room cameras, so the rest of the cameras was basically deserted.

It didn't take long for Jeremy to notice that the kitchen camera was offline. "Guess it got zapped by the power…" Jeremy said, shrugging his shoulders and sitting back to get comfortable. Payton told him smoking was allowed in the office, and included a complementary ashtray sitting next to an ancient-looking phone, so Jeremy took it upon himself to light a cigarette. It's not like there was anything else to do for six hours.

Right as the wall clock struck twelve, the phone on the desk rang. Jeremy promptly sat forwards and took his cigarette out so he could talk properly.

" _Uh, hello? Hello, hello?"_ The voice on the other end asked.

"Payton?" Jeremy asked back.

" _Oh, hey Fitzgerald! Welcome to your first day of your new job. Did the uniform fit okay? I, uh, probably should've made you try the shirt on during training… b-but if you need a new one it'll be no trouble."_

"Yeah, it's fine. Didn't you have the evening shift tonight? I didn't see you on my way in."

" _I uh, had my car parked behind the building, so I just left through the kitchen. The kitchen… oh yeah! You've probably noticed the, uh, kitchen camera being offline by now. The storm zapped it earlier, and we've ordered the replacement, but it won't come in for about a week. B-But there's a hallway camera outside of the kitchen door, so if some, I don't know, robber comes in you'll see 'em. You're a strong guy, I trust that you can rough him up a bit."_

Jeremy had to stop Payton from rambling before he talked about his damn wife again. "Payton, hold on a sec. Why are you calling me? Am I not supposed to be here?"

" _N-No, you're right on time!"_ Payton exclaimed, " _Calling the newbie for last-minute questions kind of a mandatory thing the boss makes me do, but it won't take too long. Plus there was some stuff I forgot to tell you during training…"_

Jeremy put the phone on speaker and sat back again with his cigarette now back in his mouth. Knowing Payton, this would take a while.

" _Anyways, the stuff I forgot. Let's see, uh… I already told you about the kitchen… oh yeah. Uh, listen, Fransisco's been under a lot of pressure lately, so try not to bother him if he's working in his office at night. Uh, if he needs you to do anything for him during your shift, just please do as he says without argument. I mean, he's a really nice guy and all, but he can be a bit, uh… irritable and hostile when stressed. Plus, doing the boss favors can really get you some nice things in return. Hey, before you know it you could be the boss's new right hand man and living in a penthouse!_

Jeremy took out his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth. "What's his deal?" He asked, "Bills?"

" _Uh, no. He's having trouble with some of his associates after a small incident a few weeks ago. And there's lots of tensions in the building altogether, which gives Fransisco major stress. Heh, I don't blame the guy, right?"_

"Hmph. Anything else I need to know?"

" _Huh… I think that's about all the major things I forgot. If I think of anything else, I'll leave you a note tomorrow. Have a good first night, rookie!"_

Payton had hung up the phone before Jeremy even answered to that message. Jeremy let out a sigh of relief and resumed to his smoking. His stomach gave a loud growl, making Jeremy just remember that he didn't bring any food to last him. By now Jeremy had learned not to snack as much as he used to due to low income, so ignoring the hunger wouldn't be too bad. At least the water cooler was there to give him a drink.

Jeremy watched the cameras of the main stage area as people began to gradually file out over a course of around fifteen minutes. After every club patron had left, Jeremy saw Fransisco put an arm around Cheyenne and hug her, earning a shove from Cheyenne in response. The cameras didn't have audio, but he could tell Cheyenne said something in an angry tone to the older man.

The other cameras showed various staff cleaning up and heading out for the night. The man in the blue outfit had headed out one of the stage doors and into a door to the right of the building, eventually followed by Cheyenne and Fransisco.

Soon it was just Jeremy in the building. Six long, long hours (hopefully) alone with only his thoughts and Pall Mall in his squeaky swivel chair trying to fight his urge to fall asleep.

It wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but it sure was better than sitting on the corner of the street begging for change.


	5. The Piano Man

Jeremy had ended up falling asleep about fifty minutes into his shift. It's not like watch black and white screens for six hours was the most exhilarating job. He just kind of rested his head on his hand for a second after putting out his cigarette and within minutes he was asleep.

Not exactly an ideal situation to be in on his first day on the job, especially if Fransisco was as pissy as Payton had said. Though Jeremy hadn't particularly worried about being caught; it was past midnight, and he was the only one in the building at the time.

Or so he had thought.

Jeremy was suddenly woken up by a sharp pain coming from pressure to his neck. Naturally, when Jeremy came to he spun his head around. "Hey, what the fuck-?" He hissed and attempted to grab what was on his neck, but the thing was taken away when Jeremy came to.

"Have a lovely rest, Sleeping Beauty?"

Jeremy looked at the man standing in front of him. It was the piano man from earlier. Though now Jeremy could see more details and features of this man. He had vibrant green eyes and a prominent gap between his teeth. He had features that were definitely masculine, yet at the same time soft enough to be a woman's- soft lips, slender features, and long eyelashes. He was wearing white gloves over his hands and his sleeves went up to where the gloves started, so the only part of him that was not clothed was his neck and head.

He gave a wide smile down to Jeremy. "My, my, how would Fransisco react to his new employee sleeping on his first day?" He asked condescendingly in a smooth British accent, "Oh, he wouldn't be pleased at all~"

"Who the hell are you?" Jeremy murmured, still mentally waking up, "And what the fuck did you do to my neck?"

"Relax, love- it was only a little pressure point. Had to wake you up somehow~" The man chuckled at his own "joke." "The name is Benjamin Moore, but please, call me Ben. I'm a, uh… 'close friend' of Fransisco's, if you can call it that." He stuck out his gloved hand, all while keeping the same smile on his face, and Jeremy cautiously shook it.

"Jeremy," Jeremy said bluntly with a hint of suspiscion.

"My, what a strong grip you have," Ben commented, removing his hand and tracing a gloved hand lightly over Jeremy's forearm, "Fransisco said you had muscles, but bloody hell, you're as strong as a bouncer!"

Ben took a step forward and leaned in closer to Jeremy. He moved his hand to Jeremy's face and brushed the bangs out of his eyes, sniffing in the air. "Such soft hair. And you smell like you live in a cigarette carton, not that I particularly mind."

"What the hell, get away from me, you fucking creep!" Jeremy snapped. He shoved Ben away from him and stood up from his chair, feeling his blood already starting to boil in his veins. At least he was fully awake now if he wasn't before.

Ben's smile faded and he blinked in surprise at the sudden contact. He then regained his posture and unnerving smile rather quickly. "Sorry, love," He apologized light-heartedly, "Sometimes I can't help myself around the new workers~"

Jeremy's hand hovered over the pocket with his taser. "Look," He growled, "I don't care if you're Fransisco's right hand man or his fucking gay lover, but you woke me up, now leave me the hell alone, you creepy fucker."

Ben laughed softly at Jeremy's attempt of intimidation, bringing his hand up to his mouth. "Come now, Jeremy, surely you could think of a better way to address me than that foul language. Besides, I'm only having a little fun. Is there really any harm in a little joke?"

Jeremy couldn't think of a response, so he decided to remain silent. His hand still kept hovering over the taser pocket. He looked down at his watch. It read 1:37 am. _'Damn, I was out for that long?'_ He thought.

"Shouldn't you have left the building by now?" Jeremy questioned.

"Well, technically this is partially my building, so I'm allowed to come and go as I please," Ben replied, "And I needed to check up on something for Fransisco. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"Fine, just leave me alone and let me get back to work." Jeremy sat back down in his swivel chair and turned back to the cameras, hoping Ben would leave. Ben didn't leave, and instead folded his arms casually and leaned against the desk. Jeremy wasn't looking at him, but he could still feel that eerie smile boring into him.

"So," Ben started casually, "I hear you're one of Ferrah's friends."

Jeremy had no choice but to engage in conversation, since it was apparent that this asshole wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Ferrah… oh, Fritz?" Jeremy said, "Yeah, we knew each other in high school, but 'friends' is a strong word…"

"Quite an exuberant young lady, isn't she? Was she ever your lover?"

"Fuck no. She's prefers girls, and I wouldn't be caught dead swapping spit with her."

"Ah, she's a lesbian?"

"She said she's 'pansexual' or something, but I have my doubts. All she ever goes for is girls."

"Pansexual?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow and chuckling, "Is that an American term? It's a new one to me. Well, that last part was true- she's always eyeing Cheyenne's behind when her back is turned."

Jeremy took out another cigarette and lit it, since Ben obviously didn't care. "Don't you have to check on something for the boss by now?"

Ben pouted his lip. "Aw, you don't enjoy my company?" He said, "Something wrong with two men engaging in a nonchalant conversation to pass the time and break the ice? You know, you should be grateful I go out of my way to talk to some low tier worker like you. You'd never this kind of treatment from the others."

Jeremy groaned in annoyance, avoiding the urge to lose his temper. Ben stayed quiet for a minute, staring at the cameras and then around the office.

"Fransisco told me you used to be a police officer," Ben said finally, though not looking at Jeremy, "Though obviously not anymore."

"What's it to you?" Jeremy muttered, clenching his teeth at the sudden change in subject.

"Nothing, I'm just a curious man with curious questions."

 _'So that's what you call it- "curious"?'_ Jeremy thought.

"And why would you give up such a noble position to work for such a measly salary here?"

"I got in trouble and now I'm poor," Jeremy replied coldly, not looking Ben in the eyes and smearing his cigarette into the ashtray. His temper and blood pressure was ready to burst at any moment.

Ben raised an eyebrow and looked down at Jeremy. "You know, it's quite rude not to look someone in the eyes when speaking to them." He proceeded to grab Jeremy's shoulder and attempt to swivel him around to face him.

Big mistake.

In a burst of anger and annoyance, Jeremy turned and grabbed Ben's wrist as hard as he could. He stood to his feet and stared down Ben in the eyes, his outburst of rage currently controlling his body.

"I said don't fucking touch me," He gritted through his firmly closed teeth. He shoved Ben back and Ben nearly lost his footing due to the sudden action. Ben's face was full of a mix of surprise and utter disgust, and then curling back into a grin. He began to laugh, making Jeremy furrow his brows.

"Aw, aren't you so brave for standing up for yourself~" He said in a sing-song voice, "You definitely have some bite. Usually new employees are too nervous or smart enough to not treat me with such disrespect on the first night. But you… you're quite the man, Jeremy."

Before Jeremy could respond, Ben lunged at Jeremy and had him pinned against a wall with a pocket knife at the other's throat, while his other hand held Jeremy's arms behind his back. For such a scrawny man, he sure had a firm grip. Jeremy considered fighting back, but the blade right in front of his neck said otherwise.

"I like you, Jeremy," Ben said in a threatening tone into the other's ear, "But even disobedient police dogs need some training to know who's boss. You know, there's a reason I'm Fransisco's closest ally- I keep workers like you in line. I could slit your throat to let you bleed out right here and not lose a wink of sleep. So the next time you want to act brave and fight me like that, remember that little piece of information.

"Oh, and don't tell about our little quarrel to Fransisco. The poor man has enough to worry about without you making a scene. He'd be most displeased to deal with the likes of you."

Ben finally let go of Jeremy by roughly pushing him against the wall and Jeremy staggered, holding onto the wall for support to avoid falling. As quickly as he had come, Ben was already gone from the office.

Sweat beads were perched on Jeremy's forehead and he was trying to catch his breath. "What... the... fuck?" He muttered between the breaths, "That guy's a straight-up psycho." Was that even allowed in that business- employees threatening new workers with knives at their throats? Did he do that to all employees?

After a minute of just standing in fear, Jeremy sat back down in his chair and looked at all of the screens. Ben was no where in them, so he must've left the building by now. Jeremy considered on mentioning this to Fransisco, but then again there was the certain possibility of having Ben slit his throat, since he was obviously close to Jeremy's boss, so he decided silence was golden in that situation.

He just sat in his chair and have on more smoke for the rest of the night. He avoided even getting up to go to the bathroom the entire night, not wanting to risk another encounter like that one. Maybe the next few paychecks would balance out the new European threat soon enough.


	6. Keeping the Job

Jeremy spent the next few weeks of work all-out avoiding Ben as much as possible. Though fortunately Jeremy saw very little of Ben, and when he did it was only through the cameras at the beginning of his shift.

It seemed as if Ben was intentionally keeping away from Jeremy as well. Jeremy figured this either meant that Ben was plotting to murder him during his routine naps in work or was just as weirded out by the situation as Jeremy was (however the first possibility seemed much more likely than the latter).

Fritz was also another person Jeremy avoided when possible, but that was much harder than avoiding Ben. Unlike Ben, Fritz was always coming into work a few minutes before Jeremy's shift officially ended and her's started, so it was near impossible not to see her.

Their conversations were as brief as Jeremy could manage. He did his best to keep her pointless chit-chat stories short, but there obviously was no way to tone down Fritz's boisterous personality. She just loved living in the idea that Jeremy was still her friend- the friend she knew back in her high school years, and the friend who hadn't nearly been charged with manslaughter.

At least she wasn't threatening him with a blade to his throat every time they encountered.

Payton was the exact opposite of Fritz. Jeremy hadn't seen an eye or hair of him after his training day, and no phone calls were left for him after his first night. Jeremy wasn't devastated in the slightest about Payton's absence though. Like Fritz, Payton rambled way too much. Jeremy enjoyed having his shifts spent in peace and quiet- the perfect sleeping environment.

The rest of the staff wasn't nearly as welcoming as Fritz and Payton had been. They were all very closed-in and indifferent; Jeremy had no doubt that they were wary of him. There wasn't a single person within the city who didn't hear about Jeremy's incident on the news, so Jeremy didn't blame the staff for avoiding him. Though that didn't mean it wasn't annoying.

One positive thing about this new job was the pay. Sure, it was barely enough to afford luxuries or have pocket change, but Jeremy cherished each penny of it. He was overjoyed to be able to actually buy real groceries that weren't just ramen and booze, and just being able to slowly get back into a healthier diet.

Perhaps this job would be worth it after a few more pay raises.

Jeremy had been requested to come into work early by Fransisco on the Tuesday of his third week.

On his way to work, Jeremy mentally ran through the list of every possibility of what this could mean. Did Payton's hours get cut short and Jeremy's hours increased? Did they need Jeremy to do an extra assignment? Was he being fired? Jeremy sure hoped his only source of income wasn't in jeopardy.

He went into work through the front door as Fransisco had clearly instructed. The place was empty and dark, with the exception of the emergency lights on automatically to give Jeremy enough light to navigate through the area. ' _Must've been a slow day,'_ Jeremy thought.

After heading through the door near the stage, he immediately went over to Fransisco's office. He quietly stepped in and lightly tapped his knuckles on the door.

Fransisco was sitting at his desk and looking over some kind of papers when Jeremy came in. He looked up from his work and grinned at Jeremy. "Ah, right on time," He said.

"You… wanted to see me, sir?" Jeremy asked formally, fully stepping into the room. It smelled heavily of cigars and fancy whiskey.

Fransisco stood up from his desk. "Yes, yes. But not in here. Follow me." He went past Jeremy out of the office and Jeremy followed closely behind. "How do you like work here, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Very much. It's really helped me financially."

"Good. Ben said he saw potential in you. He seems to like you, as do I. Other employers missed out on a valuable employee just because of some stupid legal issue."

Jeremy was skeptical of Ben actually liking him, though if it helped his reputation with the boss, it couldn't hurt.

"So… how badly do you want to keep this job?"

"Huh?" Jeremy said with a furrow of his eyebrows.

"It's a big world out there. I know I said your legal troubles were irrelevant, but it doesn't look good for me, yeah? I could easily hire someone with no criminal record to do your job and make my life easier. Now you're a good man, and I'd hate to see you go, but my business comes first."

Jeremy's chest tightened. Although the thought of unemployment was all too familiar by now, Jeremy would rather die than return to that kind of lifestyle. But he couldn't blame Fransisco; Jeremy wouldn't even want to hire himself.

"I understand," Jeremy said.

Fransisco suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face Jeremy. "Unless... you want to prove to me I should keep you," He said. His tone had suddenly turned serious.

"... How so?" Said Jeremy guardedly.

Fransisco stood in thought for a moment before turning around. "Follow me," He ordered Jeremy and began walking.

Jeremy obediently followed behind, a hook of doubt making him a little hesitant as to what Fransisco meant. He really hoped this task to keep his job did not involve sexual favors or murdering the competition in the cold flesh. He and his boss reached the back door of the building and Fransisco momentarily paused before opening the creaky metal door.

The night air pleasantly kissed Jeremy's cheek and embraced him in the sounds of cars driving down the nearby streets. However, the scene before Jeremy was not nearly as calming as the contrasting atmosphere around it.

On the ground sat a man who was blindfolded with a white cloth and gagged with a rope. He sat on his knees on the graveled ground of the alleyway. Several bruises speckled on his arms and his hands we also bound with rope that no doubt was leaving wicked marks on his wrists.

Around the poor man stood four other people, all of them holding guns except for one burly man- who Jeremy recognized as bouncer who always stands in front of the building at night- holding a baseball bat. Cheyenne was among the four people, looking bitter as always and holding a pistol in one hand while the other rested on her hip. They all turned to Jeremy and Fransisco when they came through the door.

Jeremy stood frozen in fear. Before he could even think of running away, one of the men walked roughly dragged Jeremy fully outside and slammed the door behind him.

"Don't you even think of escaping, Fitzgerald," Fransisco said, "Four people with weapons against you? Not a chance." Fransisco let out a laugh and two of the other men grinned. The man on the ground was still shivering in fear.

Jeremy's throat was dry and his head was spinning. Jeremy had dealt with drug dealers, psychopaths, murderers- all walks of life in his cop days, but this was significantly different. He had no weapon except a puny pocket taser and no backup to assist him. One wrong move and he could have a bullet in his head within seconds.

"Ha, look at this guy!" Fransisco exclaimed, bending down to the gagged man, "Little shit thought he could get out of paying my loan that kept him on crack. You really thought ol' Fransisco would forget, North?"

The gagged man furiously shook his head. "N-No… F-Fransisco," He shuddered.

"Told you he was nothin' but a swindling crackhead," Cheyenne said to herself.

Fransisco stood back up and turned back to Jeremy. "I think you need to have few swings at him. You should, eh, rough him up, yeah?"

Jeremy took a few seconds to find his voice to speak. "W-What the hell's h-happening?" He stammered, "W-Who's that?". It wasn't even hot outside, yet Jeremy was already starting to form pearls of sweat upon his forehead.

The other men and Cheyenne snickered and Fransisco's grin only grew. He went over to Jeremy and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Ah Jeremy, a good worker, but not too observant it seems," Said Fransisco, "What, was spending 'bout half a year smoking and drinking cut you off from the world?" More sneers from the circle erupted.

"See, I assumed as a former cop you knew about the last gang who was here- Frederico's little gang of goonies. Long story short, we burned them out like a match, and it's a new day. I've got the whole government and police force in the palm of my hand. This is my turf now, and in my turf you play by my rules.

"I hired you not just to be another lackey, but like I said before, I see potential in you. Strong, obedient, and stern- you could do great things, Jeremy. Though this city is mine, so remember this; follow my orders and play by the rules, and you could be living in luxury within a year. However, if you want to be the good cop you always wanted to be and try to break rules, well… why don't you ask North how it will end?"

North said nothing, and just sat in silence on the gravel blubbering through snot and sobs.

Jeremy felt as stiff as a board. "S-So why am I o-out here? S-Shouldn't you have told m-me on the first day?" He asked cautiously.

"Think of it as… a test," Replied Fransisco, "I didn't know if you still had ties to justice. But it seemed like Ben scared that last bit of righteousness right out of ya on your first night, so I just had to wait for the right moment when this nut was going to crack to make the big reveal." He made a motion towards North.

"Besides, what do you have to lose?" He said, "It's not like the police care about the likes of ya. Why not take the chance to play on the side of the victors in this game?"

The temptation was almost unbearable. Although the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach was screaming otherwise, Jeremy couldn't agree more with Francisco's statement. He was nobody. A worthless piece of trash. If he was going to be trash in the eyes of the good guys, he could at least try to make it as a bad guy.

Jeremy was silent for about thirty seconds more. "What do I have to do?" He finally said.

"Smart choice, boy!" Exclaimed Fransisco gleefully, slapping Jeremy on the back and pulling him close for a shaking side hug. The intoxicating yet familiar smell of tobacco reeked off of Fransisco enough for Jeremy to get a whiff. Fransisco pointed down at North. "Give 'im some more bruises and cuts. Break a few bones. You can even use Joe's bat if you're feeling adventurous."

"And kill him…?" Jeremy asked nervously.

Fransisco shook his head. "No, no, not kill him," He said, "We'll decide what to do with him later." The Mexican gave a wide, toothy smile to Jeremy.

All eyes were on Jeremy. His knees felt weak and he was trembling in terror. His heart was screeching to start running, but his brain ordered him to follow Fransisco's orders. But there was no other option at that point.

Jeremy bent down and looked upon the trembling man. Now he remembered; North was a janitor during the evening shift who Jeremy had seen mopping the halls at the beginning of his shift a couple of times. ' _Poor fucker,'_ Jeremy thought.

"Sorry," Jeremy muttered to North, who turned his head away in response.

Jeremy raised his fist and brought it down with all his might onto North's snot and blood-covered face. And then his ribs. And then everything else again, again, and again.


	7. They Call Her Mangle

North was apparently killed shortly after Jeremy left the scene that night.

Jeremy spent the next two days shakily recovering. He was able to eventually remove the blood stains from his shirt with soap and elbow grease, but the bloody images still stained his mind. It was almost as if Jeremy could still feel the warm blood on his knuckles, the sickening sound of shattering North's nose with one blow, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Although he ended up drowning his anxieties with booze and cigarettes, it was still a lot to take in. He had been placed on such thin ice to skate on; one wrong move and he could be the one being beat to death in the alleyway behind the building next time.

Then again, this new role in society was surely going to be his demise one day, yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride about working with the real masterminds of the city. Plus after a quick chat with Fransisco that night, Jeremy had already gotten a pay raise, which had already helped Jeremy out financially.

Maybe it'll be like Fransisco said: if he plays by the rules, he could be living in luxury within a few months. It would certainly be a nice upgrade from the roach-infested apartment he calls "home" right now.

Jeremy settled down into his chair fairly quickly and set his wrapped up sandwich on the desk in front of him. He lit a cigarette and threw the rest of the carton on the desk as well.

He felt as if he should be getting more work from Fransisco. Aside from the short talk he had with Fransisco to discuss the specifics of Jeremy's new role, it was as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and Jeremy was still just a security guard. Maybe if he was lucky it would stay this way.

There was a yellow sticky note sitting on the phone. Jeremy pulled it off and read it. _'Left you a voicemail'_ it said.

Jeremy did what the sticky note said and pressed the button to view the voicemail left on the machine. After being greeted by the automatic female voice saying it had one new message, a familiar voice chimed in.

 _"Hey hey, champ! Look who's finally part of the family! Trust me, this whole gang stuff is not as bad as it sounds. I actually think Fransisco really likes you, so being here should be a walk in the park for you. Just don't be like James, heh heh._

 _"So I, uh, decided to leave you a message for you to help you avoid getting into serious trouble. Um, if you ever see a really tall woman with lots of clown makeup and fancy clothes with a mask on her face, it's pretty hard to miss her, that's, uh, Maggie. Though lately most of us have started calling her 'Mangle'. She's one of the higher up gang members, but she's locked herself away for a while after a little… incident, so that's why you never saw her._

 _Look, if she ever runs into you or comes in your office,_ _ **please**_ _don't get hostile with her. I know you're temper can be kind of… short, but you gotta trust me on this one. This isn't like your first time meeting Ben; Mangle can and will kill you on the spot. She has loads of, uh, mental problems, and when she snaps she really snaps. Just be nice to her and stay calm. B-Besides, she doesn't wanna really hurt anybody- she's just... really affectionate._

 _"I, uh, thinks that's it. Just be nice and don't hurt her and your eyes should stay in your head. H-Have a good night!"_

The end tone sounded a few seconds after Payton stopped talking. Jeremy sat back in the swivel chair to marinate in Payton's advice. A woman with clown makeup and fancy clothes certainly produced an exotic mental image.

 _'This place seems to be full of loons,'_ he thought, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

Three hours passed without incident. All of Jeremy's sandwich had been consumed and he had just finished his cigarette, which he roughly squished on the ashtray.

After finishing his cigarette, he momentarily left the office to take a quick piss break and splash himself with the sink water to perk up. Just as he was wiping his hands on his slacks while heading back to his office, he heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen.

Jeremy ran over to the kitchen to find that the door hand been opened. He cautiously stuck his head in and switched on the light. It seemed that only a pan had been knocked down from the rack above the stove.

He set the pan back to its original spot and turned the light back off on his way out. He heard a quiet giggle (no doubt the giggle of a child) come from somewhere nearby, despite the hall being completely deserted.

' _Fransisco… doesn't have children… right?'_ he thought, clutching the taser in his pocket. Now there was faint whispering echoing through the hall, no doubt more than one person now. With careful steps, he advanced toward the source of the voices.

Even though Jeremy's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, Jeremy still had a hard time seeing. He had no idea what was waiting him around the corner, but he sucked it up and slowly turned it. The voices immediately stopped.

There was a figure kneeling at the end of the hallway, but Jeremy could not make it out too well. His throat felt as dry as a desert, but child or not, Jeremy had to stand his ground.

"S-Show yourself!" he commanded, "I am armed and not afraid to use it!"

The figure stood up after several seconds of silence and began walking towards Jeremy, heels clicking softly. Before Jeremy had realized it, the figure had come into full view and was holding his face.

Before him stood a woman, who was at least several inches taller than Jeremy. She had red curly hair, a long sleeve-shirt, a corset, a flowing skirt, and at least a dozen necklaces and rings. But what caught Jeremy's attention the most was the masquerade mask that covered her eyes and her thick application of white makeup, along with deep red lipstick.

"Oh my stars," Cooed the woman in a sing-song voice, "Ben said you were good-looking, but you're simply adorable! You're cute enough to eat~"

Jeremy didn't take long to realize who this was and immediately put down his defenses. Though that didn't stop his heart from racing.

"You… you're Mangle… right?" Jeremy said, making sure to choose his words very carefully, "I-I mean, Maggie."

Mangle pulled her hands away from Jeremy's face and laughed. "Oh, you're too kind~ I don't mind if you call me that name. Ben started calling me that just a few days ago; isn't he just the funniest guy?"

' _Well, Payton was right about the sick in the head part,'_ Jeremy thought.

"So, Mangle, was… anyone else here?" he inquired, trying not to sound unfazed by the eerie feeling of something being very off this woman was giving him, "Specifically a child."

Mangle grinned, flashing her white, too white, teeth in the darkness. "Oh, that was…" Her voice trailed off before she could finish and her smiled momentarily faded. "No children here~"

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. She was either fibbing or making up things, but Jeremy didn't want to risk arguing with her.

"Cheyenne told me about you," Mangle said, "Were you really a police office~?"

"Y-Yes," Jeremy replied, "Yes I was." It made him wonder what else Cheyenne had to say about him.

"Oh, how simply adorable~! No wonder you look so good in blue!"

"And you're, uh, one of Fransisco's 'friends'?" Jeremy asked.

"Why yes, we're quite close," Mangle replied, "He took me under his wing and lets me live if this beautiful building while he goes off and does his work. And I don't even have to pay rent~"

Jeremy nodded. He scanned the room as Mangle was having a giggle fit over her apparently hilarious joke. Despite nobody being around, he felt as if something else was in the area with him and Mangled, silently spying on them. A chill went up Jeremy's nerves.

Suddenly Jeremy's hand was grabbed and held up. "My goodness, what a beautiful watch you have!" Mangle exclaimed, "It shines so beautifully. It must've cost you a fortune~"

' _Yeah, $34.99 is a fortune to me,'_ Jeremy thought. He noticed that every piece of gold and silver jewelry Mangle was wearing was striking real-looking. Maybe Fransisco was her sugar daddy who loaded her up with gifts. Though that was unlikely, seeing as how mentally unstable she was just by looking at her. But maybe Fransisco was into that stuff.

Jeremy slipped his hand out of Mangle's grasp. "Look," he said with forced calmness, "I have to get back to my job. Cameras aren't gonna watch themselves, y'know?"

Mangle frowned. "Aw, you have to leave me so soon?" she said. It took her a second before her smile returned. "Well… I suppose I will see you another night."

She leaned down and held Jeremy's chin with one hand as she placed a firm grandma kiss on his cheek. Jeremy considered wiping it off, but decided to wait until he was away from Mangled to avoid hurting her feelings.

"See you another time, mister police officer~" Mangle hummed playfully, waving with her ring-covered hand and turning around to do some sort of walk that resembled a skip with her high-heeled boots.

Jeremy waited until Mangle was out of sight to turn around and quickstep to the bathroom. He roughly wiped his cheek and looked at himself in the mirror. A crimson smear had been stained on his face and on his hand. He groaned and used a paper towels to forcibly get rid of the kiss mark.

The rest of the night went back to being calm and quiet. Six o' clock rolled around before Jeremy even knew it and caught him off guard. Jeremy was resting his head on his elbow trying to doze off as he was greeted by the swinging open of the office door.

"Mooooring, Jer-bear!" Fritz called out in a perky voice. There was coffee in one hand and her plump purse in another.

Jeremy jumped and audibly groaned as he rubbed his eyes. He turned around in his swivel chair.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He groused.

Fritz laughed. "Uh, duh, this is my workspace too, not your bedroom. Now get up and get out lazy bones."

Jeremy reluctantly got up and shoved his cigarette box into his pocket. It was way too early to get Fritz's overly-happy shit right in his face. But just as he was getting ready to walk out, he suddenly remembered something he needed to ask Fritz. He stopped in his tracks and looked back as Fritz was setting her things down.

"Hey, you uh… wanna get coffee?" Jeremy asked, "I mean, after your shift. Same place as last time?"

Frtiz glanced over at Jeremy and thought for a moment. "Sure," she replied, not sounded as peppy as Jeremy expected, "Be there at noon."


	8. Because We're Friends

"So... what's on your mind?" Fritz said with a tremulous voice.

The coffee shop was as mellow as always, with only a few other patrons besides Jeremy and Fritz scattered around at their separate tables. There were two baristas standing behind the polished counter chatting and sneering about a new celebrity scandal, both completely oblivious that they work just a few buildings away from the most powerful mob in the city that recently beat a guy to death in the alleyway.

Fritz was looking down at the table with a smile on her lips but not in her eyes. She was definitely trying to find anything to look at other than Jeremy. She mindlessly tapped her yellow fingernails on the table.

"I think you know the answer to that," Jeremy retorted coldly and sipped his coffee.

Fritz bit her lower lip and clenched the hand she had resting on the table. "Yeah, I know you knew," Fritz muttered.

"What the hell Fritz?" Jeremy hissed, making sure to lower his voice to not be overheard by the other patrons, "Why didn't you even hint that this job could get me killed if I fuck up? Not even a subtle 'How was your day, also you just started working for a gang' when we met for coffee a few weeks ago."

"I know, I know," Fritz replied, "But you gotta consider what would happen to me if I let any info about the gang stuff to you slip. I'd probably end up like that guy you beat up in the alleyway, and things'd be worse for you too. People screwing up and making Fransisco way more irritable just ruins that atmosphere for everybody."

"Okay, okay, say you couldn't warn me about the background gang shit. You could've at least warned me about Ben."

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," Fritz commented, "Ben usually doesn't interact with newbies that early on in their career there. It's usually at least a couple of weeks before he makes any moves." A devious grin grew on her face and she snickered. "Maybe he's got the hots for you. I could see why he would."

Jeremy felt his cheeks grow hot. "Wha- ew, fuck that! Damn, I knew he was gay." He rested his head on his hand and glanced out the window for a moment at the copious amount of pedestrians strolling down the sidewalk. He then turned back to Fritz. "Does he like to threaten people he likes to slit their throats?"

"Eh, it's his thing," Fritz said with a smirk, "He's supposed to keep the lackies in line and not try to rebel. But who knows, maybe you'll grow attracted to him. People who sleep with him usually get some pretty damn good benefits. And I heard he's not too bad in bed either."

Jeremy nearly spit out his coffee. "Fritz, keep your voice down!" he yell-whispered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fritz replied in a sassy tone, intentionally raising her voice to piss off Jeremy, "I was just talking about how Ben is a total slut for big, muscular behind all those fancy get-ups of his."

With a quick smack to the arm, Fritz shut herself up. She had to take a little while to cease her laughing fit while Jeremy's cheeks still remained red. A few of the coffee shop patrons looked over at the two momentarily before returning to their own business.

"But for reals," Fritz said finally, "You never know; maybe you're just a lil gay and you may actually like doin' the dirty with Ben."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll happen anytime soon," Jeremy huffed sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. He finished the rest of his coffee and ran his fingers through his hair. Although Jeremy wasn't surprised that Ben was a gay secret slut, he wasn't so thrilled with the possibility of Ben getting attracted to him.

"By the way," he commented, "What's the deal with Mangle? Does she actually do work for Fransisco, or is he just her sugar daddy and buys her jewelry to keep her from going berserk?"

"Sugar daddy? Nah," Fritz responded, "To be honest, Mangle still is kind of a mystery to a lot of us. We don't know much about her, and most of the staff never really sees her. Though I heard through the grapevine that she specializes in torture and just breaking people from the inside and out. It would definitely suit psycho shtick she's got going on."

"Torture? Yeah I can see it. What's her story anyways? Is she a convict or a former mental patient or what?"

"I dunno. But I think her mental deal is something about the way she looks. Like right before she locked herself away for about a month, she used to not wear nearly as much makeup and accessories. Then that incident with the kid happened…"

"Kid?" Jeremy asked, "Does she have a kid?" He thought about his encounter with Mangled last night. Is the giggle he heard then the giggle of her child?

"No, I'd be really surprised if someone even got her to take her dress off, let alone have sex," Fritz corrected, lowering her voice, "'Kay, so last month during the day Fransisco had some 'friends' over to the place for drinks and shit, right? Well, one of them brought their, like, six year-old for some smart reason and Fransisco let Maggie, what everyone used to call her, and Cheyenne take the kid to one of the back rooms to draw and color and all that good stuff. See, at that time Maggie was a lot more sane and calm, so they figured she'd be great with the kid. Cheyenne was back there with her for good measure, because the Fransisco was still unsure of how it'd go over.

"During all this I was getting near the end of my shift, and since that room has no camera, I figured I don't have to worry, right? Anyways, all was good for like forty minutes. But then I heard this loud wail like somebody was getting killed. I ran over to the room to see Maggie barely being held back by Cheyenne with one hand covering her face and the other trying to claw at the child. Her mask was thrown a little ways away on the floor, the string snapped. The kid had obviously been hit to the floor and was bawling and holding his cheek. Apparently Maggie swiped at him and one of her rings scratched his cheek, and Maggie was out for blood. She was spewing all of these cries like 'He saw my face!' or 'Don't look!' in a blood-curdling voice."

"Yeesh," Jeremy commented, "Guess age doesn't matter if someone messes with her looks."

"Yeah, she was beyond pissed," Fritz continued, "So I go to help Cheyenne hold her back, but neither of us were having much effect. Then Fransisco and Ben ran in, followed by all his acquaintances crowding at the door, and was able to fully hold Maggie back while getting so scratches along his arm and kicks to the leg. The mother of the kid went to comfort her child and Ben picked up the mask before helping Fransisco drag her out. Cheyenne and I helped console the kid and the angry parents. "

"So she locked herself away for a month?"

"Basically. No one saw or heard from her for all that time. God knows what she did during then. Word about the whole thing got around pretty quickly because the gossip was burning a hole in Ben's head and he blabbed to a couple of higher up workers, and it spread from there. I never saw Mangle's face personally, so all I got for a mental image is Ben's rumors. Ben's the one who called her 'Mangle' first, and the name caught on almost instantly."

Jeremy shook his head. "Damn, that's harsh."

Fritz nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but what can ya do? Mangle doesn't mind that nickname; the only one who does seem to care is Cheyenne. She says 'it's rude to say that about a mentally ill woman' and stuff like that, and she's not wrong, but who cares?" She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and adjusted the bow in her hair.

"Did you... actually see her face?" Jeremy inquired.

"No," Fritz said with a shake of her head, "But Ben said it really was mangled. Lots of scars that were probably self-inflicted. Though I wouldn't that guy's word for it; he just loves to stir up controversy."

It was weird to admit, but Jeremy actually felt pretty sorry for Mangle. Being alienated from everyone else in her workspace and called names behind her back and she wasn't in the right mind to stop it- just like a kid being bullied in high school. Though Fritz had a point; if it wasn't hurting anybody nor the person in question, why try to fight it?

"Still should've told me about all this," he murmured, "About the crazy people in this business."

Fritz cocked an eyebrow. "Why should've I risked getting killed for you?" she asked.

"I thought because we're friends," Jeremy replied.

The angry look on Fritz's face and the folding of her arms was definitely not the reaction Jeremy hoped for. Fritz was now staring bullets into him with an annoyed aura forming around the table. "Oh, now you're using the friend excuse? You sure weren't open to the idea until ten minutes ago."

"Huh?" Jeremy said flatly, caught off-guard by Fritz's response.

"Don't play stupid with me; you know you wanted nothing to do with me when it didn't benefit you," Fritz snapped, "You think I didn't notice your sour attitude whenever I tried to be friendly? You did anything to get lil' ol' Fritz Smith to shut up so you can go back to your apartment to smoke and drink."

Jeremy's heart dropped. Guess Fritz learned to pick up on social cues a lot better than she did in high school.

"W-Well," Jeremy spat, trying to look for something to say in return, "You should've laid off on talking to me every chance you got. Hearing you run on about your obnoxious neighbors isn't something I wanna hear at six in the morning."

"I didn't wanna see you become a miserable outcast in your own workplace, so I thought I was doing the right thing by reaching out to you. Guess I was wrong."

"Maybe I wanna be alone!" Jeremy barked.

A heavy silence sat between the two for half a minute. Jeremy was breathing heavy and his fists in balls on the table, but did his best not to look too hurt. His head was looking out the window, but he could see his table mate from the corner of his eye. Fritz was just as angry and not as good with hiding it, tears visibly welding in her eyes as she looked down. Still, Jeremy didn't want to storm off in anger today. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't want Fritz to leave him like everyone else did.

"Sorry," he muttered quietly, not turning from looking out the window.

"Sorry," Fritz meekly agreed.

One by one, the other patrons of the establishment went back to their own affairs. The baristas were now back to work filling out orders for two waitresses on break that were joking about their coworkers.

The sickening sound of the metal door unlocking and creaking open echoed throughout the barren basement. The blinding light filled the room, shedding light on the gray walls and gray floor. A roach skittered away to cower away in a dark gray corner in fear of being squashed by merciless human.

Ben stepped into the basement all dressed up in his pale blue vest and white pants like always. Despite wearing his signature white gloves, he still felt disgusted being in such an unclean place with unclean people. Though somebody had to do the dirty work, and there was no way any of the average workers could be trusted with such a dirty deed.

In his hands was a tray that had a glass of water and a stale loaf of leftover bread from the nearby bakery Fransisco was "protecting". He carefully strolled down the stairs and glanced around the room as he walked. There were two people, a handless blonde girl and an older brunette man, huddled close to each other against the left as they slept, their only time of peace. Another man with faded red hair was hunched over and muttering incoherently to himself. One last body was leaning against the far right corner.

"Good morning, you pathetic minks," Ben called out mockingly, "I hope everyone's day has been lovely so far." No response, as usual. "A little bluebird told me one of you is refusing their meals, and we all know how we simply can not have that."

Ben strolled over to the far right corner and looked down upon the nearly motionless body that only moved to faintly breath. Their hair was greasy and a faded lavender color, though most of it was covered by the thick layer of bandages around their head and one eye. They were wearing a tattered purple shirt that was soaked with dried blood and ripped where their arm had also been forcibly amputated (this was also patched up with heavy duty bandages).

"Wake up, filthy mutt," Ben sneered, "You think you can escape by starving yourself? You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

The bandaged person looked up with their one good eye. "It was a good try," they replied emotionlessly.

"Oh, want to be smart now?" Ben remarked, lowering the tray down to the person's face and forcing a passive-aggressive smile, "I'm trying to be nice, you know. The others would be much harsher to you; you should be grateful I'm taking pity on someone like you." The other person turned their head away like a stubborn child refusing to eat their vegetables.

"Bullshit. Just let me starve already," they muttered, "If you're just gonna end up killing me eventually, let me make it easier for you by doing it myself. You'll get less blood on your prissy little hands."

Ben's smile instantly faded and he took a deep breath. He set the tray on the floor and picked up the glass of water with one hand as the other roughly turned the prisoner's face to face him. "Alright, you lost the privilege of me showing any mercy," he growled.

One of his dress shoes pressed firmly into the other's stomach to keep them from struggling as Ben forcibly opened their mouth. He quickly emptied the tap water into their mouth without warning and forced their jaw to clamp shut so they drank it all. He stepped back and stormed off in utter disgust as the prisoner sputtered onto the floor and choked on the liquid without the least bit of dignity. The plastic tray with the bread on in was left on the floor, though it wasn't a potential escape tool for any of them, so he figured someone else can take it back up eventually.

The handless girl, who had been woken up by the whole event, rushed over to comfort the one-armed person in a gesture that resembled a hug. Quite a pitiful sight.

"Let this be a reminder to all of you filthy animals!" Ben barked, "Eat your meals when they are given, and things will go much smoother for all of us."

He slammed the basement door with a loud bang as he felt wrath and disgust well up inside of him, waiting to burst at any second. He couldn't wait to scrub his hands down to get rid of the filth he had to experience just being down there and actually _touching_ one of those foul creatures.


	9. One Day, Three Guilty Ones

It was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet enough that Jeremy could audibly hear the faint thumping of his heart and soft breathing. The type of quiet that could drive a man insane. The quietness engulfed everything in the space, making the room seem much larger than it probably was.

Jeremy was walking down a seemingly endless corridor of infinite darkness. Nothing to see on the walls, and nothing to do- he could only keep wandering rhythmically. He had no specific destination in mind, but he couldn't stop proceeding. Just keep walking, walking forever; a naked being in a vast abyss.

Suddenly the corridor was swallowed by a sea of fire. Jeremy immediately stopped in his tracks and shielded his eyes from being burned. However, the fire was not hot in the slightest; in fact, it was pleasantly warm, even as it swallowed him whole with the surrounding area. The fire ferociously devoured the black corridor, biting and ripping its fabricated flesh to reveal a new scenery.

Jeremy was now outside in a lower-class suburban neighborhood- the ghetto. The night air was pleasantly lukewarm and the atmosphere was relatively silent with the exception of the busy highway in the distance. A dog was senselessly barking at the night sky somewhere down the street in someone's backyard. Almost every barred window was dark, encasing people in their cocoons of deep and peaceful slumber. Jeremy clearly remembered this play, but couldn't think of why he was here.

Looking down, Jeremy noticed he was now wearing baggy suburban fashion of a loose T-shirt and jean shorts. He couldn't feel the familiar tickle of his long hair anymore- it was a few centimeters from a buzzcut now. Nothing about him looked or felt right. Yet he was certainly himself but simultaneously not; it was as if he was masquerading in someone else's skin.

"Stop and put your hands where I can see them!"

The command sliced through Jeremy's thoughts and brought him back to his surroundings. He recognized that assertive voice anywhere- it was his own. Instinctively, he turned around to look at who was yelling at him.

It was a mirror copy of him advancing on him. The other Jeremy was wearing a standard police uniform, hair tied back, and a gun firmly in his hands. This Jeremy had come out from the space between two houses, obviously having been running the whole way. Yes, it was almost an exact replica of himself, like looking into a mirror.

But something was not right. This Jeremy's face was distorted beyond natural human capabilities. Its face was a pale white with pitch black eyes and red cheeks. Its mouth was curved much too far up into a sickening grin. There was some kind of dark liquid pouring out of the eye sockets.

Jeremy's heart began to pound in his chest. He needed to get out of there, but his legs refused to budge and stayed cemented to the pavement. All he could do is stay frozen in his fear in front of the other Jeremy. The last thing he managed to do was squeeze his eyes shut as the thing fired its gun and pierced him several times in the chest.

Suddenly the whole world was shattered by the sound of the gun and Jeremy woke up in a cold sweat. He frantically clutched his chest as it raised and lowered in a panic, then looking around at his surroundings.

He was in his own bedroom that was littered with dirty clothes and other junk, sitting in his own bed which had its cover discarded on the floor. There was the sound of steady morning traffic outside his window. The clock on the dresser read _7:26_.

Jeremy wiped his forehead and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. He hadn't had such a vivid nightmare in years. It felt way too real to be just a dream; he could still feel the bullets forcibly plunging into his chest.

But it was too early in the morning to dwell on it too much in depth. Jeremy yanked up his blanket from the floor and draped it back over himself, returning to sleep within minutes.

Chica stood to her feet and roughly bashed the stone wall his her stub, ignoring the stinging pain. Bonnie flinched at the sudden action, but made no effort to do anything about it. They just covered their ears to block out the loud noises. Foxy was too immersed in his own thoughts to even turn his head in the general direction. The short girl's blood was on fire as she looked up at the eldest man.

"If you had just hired some more bodyguards instead of keeping to your conceited foreign ass, maybe we wouldn't even be here!" Chica barked.

"Oh, so it's my fault?!" Freddy screamed back, "You can't blame me for this. They overpowered us, what could I do? You can't point fingers at people because you feel sorry for yourself." He continued harshly in Italian, something Chica absolutely hated when he did that.

"Why don't ya speak some damn English, ya bitch ass? And yeah I am pointing fingers because you had enough power to build up our men more, but noooo we didn't need more workers. This place was only a hideout for us."

"Look, screaming at me like a demon will not help get us out. We can still get out, we just need to think of a plan. This is not so bad as it seems."

Chica gritted her teeth and lashed out forward. "Not so bad? _Not so bad?!_ Your prissy ass only got some cuts and bruises when they got a hold of you!"

She stepped right in front of Freddy and waved her arms up in his face. "You fuckin' see this, old man? I don't have any fuckin' fingers or hands to point right now! I don't think ya know what it's like to have 'em tie you down as chop off your hands. Don't even begin to tell me about 'not so bad' right now."

Freddy's top had finally blown. "I see your damn stubs!" he roared, "And you know why you have them, you idiot? You couldn't keep your mouth shut and just had to spit in the girl's face. That mouth of your's only leads to trouble for everybody else; they should have sewed it shut instead of making you lose your hands. At least it would make it easier for the rest of us to deal with this hell, you filthy street rat!"

Freddy's volume had raised to the top of his lungs by the end of his mini rant. He hadn't felt this angry in forever; like there was a jug of gasoline in his blood and someone just lit a match. Bonnie was firmly covering their ears and hiding their face in their knees, and Foxy had turned his head back to look at Freddy with dead eyes.

Chica froze in place and tears began welling up in her eyes, running down her freckled face. "I... didn't mean…" she muttered. She looked down at her arms that ended at her bandaged chubby wrists. More tears made her way out of her eyes.

Freddy's expression softened when he realized what he had done. Chica never cried. Even when she was thrown back in the basement with her freshly-amputated hands, she didn't shed a tear.

Freddy tried to comfort Chica by reaching out to her. " _Mio caro_ ," he said softly, "I did not mean it like that."

Chica retracted from Freddy's touched and leaned against the wall, sobbing into one of her arms. It took her thirty seconds before letting out a hysterical laugh between her tears. "W-We're never gettin' out of here… just please kill me already," she croaked, "What do the want with us? Is this a game to those sick bastards? I should've just stayed on the streets…"

Freddy obviously couldn't do anything to physically touch Chica, so he just stood there feeling awful and watching her cry. Not even Bonnie reached out to help their dearest friend- they were too preoccupied in their own anxiety-driven crying to pay attention to anything else.

Foxy turned his head back towards the corner. The blurry scenes of his twisted "play time" with Mangle last night still rotted his mind- his organs spilling out, being kissed all over with her cherry lipstick, only to be sewed back up by that thing in the end.

But Foxy had lost his will to be emotionally traumatized by now. He just looked at the filthy stone wall. "You're right about never escaping," He told himself quietly as he ignored the sounds of the two younger members crying.

Payton practically threw open the door to his apartment, wiping the sweat from his forehead and kicking his shoes off. The mid-summer heat certainly was not merciful this year, causing Payton's drive home from work to give him light layers of sweat on his forehead and pits. But that could easily be solved with a quick shower before hopping into bed. He just hoped he wouldn't wake his wife in the process.

The light was on in the living room down the hall. "Erika?" Payton called, walking over and poking his head in. His dear wife Erika was lying on the couch fast asleep with a book across her stomach and already in her pajamas. She always looked so peaceful in her sleep, like an angel taking a break from heaven.

Payton smiled and went to go turn off the lamp when the sleeping woman stirred. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, sleepily glancing at Payton.

"P-Payton?" She yawned, "You're home late. What time is it?"

"I got off of work like usual…," Payton replied. He took a quick glance at the tv clock, which conveniently read _12:43_. His heart sank and he whipped his head back to Erika, who was now getting up from the couch. "E-Erika, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time-"

Erika silenced his words with a quick kiss on the lips and snaking her arms around his neck. "It's fine," she said quietly, "But what happened? It's only a twenty minute drive."

Working for Fransisco for three months now, Payton had become good at thinking of quick lies. "I, uh, realized I left my phone at work just as I was halfway home."

"Uh-huh…," Erika nodded as Payton went over to the kitchen and poured himself some water. He drank it down fast, setting the glass back in the sink and running his fingers through his short hair. He made his way into their bedroom and Erika followed behind shortly after. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her book on her nightstand.

"So whatcha reading?" Payton asked as he loosened his tie.

" _The Help_ ," Erika replied, "I decided to go pick it up and go get some Chinese takeout after you left. I didn't feel like cooking tonight."

"Aw didn't save any for me?" Payton teased, giving exaggerated puppy eyes.

Erika snorted. "No, your fatass doesn't need any more takeout. Why do you think I got you all those protein shakes?"

"Well I'm squishy because of your cooking. I bet you're fattening me up to eat me," Payton huffed, letting out a laugh.

"Ah, yes, I'm an evil witch who eats fat little boys and girls," Erika replied, laughing with her husband. The two laughter faded and silence sat in between them as Payton stripped himself of his shirt and pants.

"You wanna do something Saturday?" Erika asked suddenly.

Payton froze and looked back at her. "L-Like what?" He replied, "Like a date?"

Erika nodded. "I was thinking we could go to the movies and get a bite to eat. You know, I don't see you as much because of your job. You work yourself too hard, and I'm lonely."

Payton loved Erika. He loved her with every cell in his body. But Fransisco has a gun to his head 24/7, and Payton just can't bail out of overtime he promised to do. It was better to keep Erika safe then try to be risky.

"I can't," Payton said with a sigh, "Fransisco has me working extra hours now. I need a pay raise, and this'll help me get it. I'm really sorry, babe."

Erika's pretty face drooped with disappointment and she looked at her lap. "I see…"

Payton sat next to Erika and embraced her with one arm. "Babe, it's not like that. I would love to spend more time with you, more than anything in the world. But I need to make money to keep a roof over our head." Erika still didn't seem convinced, so Payton held her even closer and gazed into her deep brown eyes.

"Tell you what," he offered, "In two weeks, I'll make sure to get Saturday and Sunday free. Then I'm all your's; movies, cuddling, sex, anything you want. How about that?"

There was a pause before Erika responded. "You promise?" She asked cautiously.

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Payton replied, planting a firm kiss on her head. Erika chuckled and went in to kiss him on the lips. They shared a deep kiss before Payton got up to head to the bathroom. He shed himself of his boxers and shut the door behind him, not wanting to disturb Erika with the light.

Erika sighed. Sometimes she thoroughly regretted falling in love with a workaholic (though him cheating was also a possibility at this point). She crawled under the covers and turned off the light, falling asleep alone in the queen bed made for two.


	10. Hanging with the Boys

Another blow was delivered to the poor guy's already beaten and bloody face. He spat out blood from his mouth onto the pavement and awaited the next blow. His punisher was ready to deliver another reminder of why he shouldn't screw up again, but the conductor of the beating raised his hand.

"That's enough, Jeremy," Ben ordered, "I know this is only your second time, but do try to hold back, dear. We need to keep all of his teeth in his mouth so he may look presentable for work on Monday."

Jeremy did as he was instructed and lowered his fist and stood to his feet. Adrenaline was beating through his heart and veins. He hadn't felt this alive in forever. For some odd reason, something about a human punching bag he's encouraged to hit really got him pumped up; he almost felt disappointed he couldn't hit the guy again.

Ben stepped over to the bloodied man and knelt down. His trademark smile was ever prominent as he held the man's chin in his fingers. "Now do you regret calling me a 'creepy faggot' earlier?" he asked softly, like a mother to an upset child.

The man nodded his head quickly. "Y-Yes…" he muttered quietly through the blood from his nose and mouth. Ben chuckled and raised back up to his feet. He roughly pushed the guy to the ground and slammed his white shoe on the poor guy's head, pinning him to the ground.

Even when Ben was being sadistic and cruel, he still had a factor of elegance in his movements; he reminded Jeremy of a graceful ballet dancer- precise and graceful

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I must have some wax in my ears," Ben sneered, crushing the other man beneath him and smearing the flesh of his cheek into the prickly pavement.

Although the other man had no intention of fighting against this humiliation, he still squirmed. He deserved it. After all, he knew the consequences of lashing out like that to a superior, and so did everyone else.

"I-I'm… so sorry that I called you a faggot." the man sputtered pitifully, "Please I b-b-beg for your f-forgiveness, sir."

Ben gave a sadistic grin and crushed him harder, folding his arms over his chest and gazing upon his broken prey. The other gang members in the group snickered at the sight, except for Jeremy. Jeremy still wasn't infected by the curse of malice that seemed to have poisoned everyone's minds around there. Though the pathetic display of the man on the ground was a tad funny, he had to admit.

Soon the bullies had stopped tormenting the troublemaker and Ben stepped back. "Charlie, be a dear and take him inside. Throw him in the break room and give him some whiskey; that always seems to do the trick for the others," He instructed one of the larger men, who must've been Charlie. Charlie nodded and slung the broken man over his shoulder, both of them soon disappearing into the building. The rest of the men filed in behind Charlie.

Jeremy went into the building with the others and was shortly greeted by Payton running past him. "S-Sorry," he muttered as he practically shoved through the group of men and frantically burst through the back door. One of the men rolled his eyes and went to the break room after Charlie.

Jeremy wondered if his wife ever nagged Payton for being out so late, and if she even knew the real reason why he worked so late. ' _Maybe she's just too oblivious to be suspicious,'_ he assumed.

After Payton was gone, Francisco came out of his office with another man. The man was albino from head to toe- pale skin, greasy hair that was close to white in color, and light blue eyes that carried heavy bags. He was wearing a deep purple collared shirt and black slacks. He looked at Jeremy with his unamused eyes, giving Jeremy am uncomfortable feeling as they made eye contact. Something about him was just unsettling.

Francisco smirked when he saw Ben, who came up from behind Jeremy. "Ah, you're done," he mused, "What's the damage?"

"Some cuts and bruises, but he'll be back to work by Monday," Ben replied, grinning, "I'll make sure he does."

The two men laughed, though Jeremy and the albino man stayed silent. Perhaps the albino was one of the few non-malicious members of the gang and was just in it for the money. Or maybe he gave no fucks about anything, which Jeremy could relate to. The albino looked over at Fransisco. "'m gonna grab my stuff n' head out," he mumbled, motioning to Fransisco's office with his head.

Fransisco nodded. "See you tomorrow night," he replied, giving a short hand motion to see him off. He glanced back at Jeremy with his icy eyes before turning to walk into Fransisco's office. The dude was definitely a strange, but then again, Mangle made him see normal. A delicate hand was placed on Jeremy's shoulder and he turned to a smiling Ben.

"Jeremy," said Ben in an inviting tone, "Could I interest you to come to my apartment for a drink or two?"

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. It was natural to be suspicious about Ben's sudden gesture, especially after how rough their first encounter was. But that was in the past, and he had learned to tolerate, and maybe even like, Ben; he was articulate, charismatic, and made great conversation when Jeremy was sharing some smokes with other workers. Plus free booze was involved. "Uh, sure." he responded hesitantly.

Ben smiled at Jeremy's acceptance, but Fransisco shot him a glare almost immediately. "No you're not," he ordered Ben, "I need to talk to you about some… important things, so postpone your _bonding time_." The Brit's smiled faded momentarily, giving Fransisco an annoyed look, then smiled apologetically at Jeremy and shrugged his shoulders. Fransisco sighed and turned around, walking back into his office.

"So sorry, dear," Ben apologized as he followed Fransisco, "Perhaps in a few weeks or so."

"Yeah, bye," Jeremy muttered with a nod. He began heading over to the break room to get his own coat and cell phone when he brushed by the albino guy. The guy had kept his monotone expression as he and Jeremy exchanged eye contact. A strange chill ran up Jeremy's spine, but he ignored it.

The break room had Charlie, the beaten guy (who's name tag read Toby), and another man- whom Jeremy recognized to be Jack, an Irish evening shift janitor- sitting at the table. Charlie was smoking, Toby had his head down on the table, and Jack was talking to the two of them. The three men looked at Jeremy as he walked in.

"Hey, Fitzgerald," Charlie greeted after taking out his cigarette, "How'd you like your second time? Betcha felt that rush this time."

"N-Not really," Jeremy lied. He shot Toby an apologetic glance. "Sorry. Didn't mean to hit that hard."

Toby glanced up. His nose had been bandaged up and wiped of blood by now, but he still looked truly awful. "'s OK, I deserved it," he murmured, putting his head back down.

Jack patted the seat next to him at the table with a grin. "Wanna take a load off?" he asked in his thick accent, "Still some whiskey left, and you don' seem to be driving soon."

While the offer was tempting, Jeremy had to decline. "Nah, I'm gonna go home tomorrow." Jack shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair as Jeremy picked his coat up from the table. He took a cigarette of his own out of his pocket and lit it in his mouth, a puff of killer smoke rising out of his mouth shortly after.

"Ya see Payton? He's gonna face the devil when he gets home," Charlie commented.

Thinking back to a few minutes ago, Jeremy did catch a glimpse of Payton's distressed face. "Yeah," he replied, "Didn't think his wife was _that_ on top of how late he works. You think she's one of those abusive types?"

The two awake men snorted and Jack shook his head. "No, no, Erika's not like that. 'Bout the sweetest woman a guy could have- can't imagine her hurting a roach," he corrected.

"Sure be nice to have a girl like that," Charlie added with a smirk, "All I got was that whale, till she left me to become a cougar."

"Ever wonder where she is now?"

"Wherever she is, I hope the Japanese caught her and made her into a nice soap bar."

Jack and Charlie howled with laughter, and Jeremy let out a good laugh himself. It was strange for other workers to talk about their lives and family, or the thought of them even being human beings outside of work. The question of whether or not these people's friends and family even knew about the crimes these men do on a weekly basis.

"But Erika," Charlie continued, "Erika's a real sweetie. We've never met her, but all the stories Payton tells to any poor soul who makes the mistake of listening give us a pretty good picture."

Jack put a hand to his chin and his expression lowered. "Though…" he wondered, "I wonder when she'll discover the truth. Payton can't keep lying to her forever, even if he thinks it the right thing to do."

"Why'd he ever take this job in the first place?" Jeremy asked, now leaning against the wall and continuing to smoke.

Jack scratched his scraggly hair with thought. "I… think he was tricked into the gang role like me and you. He said he originally was looking for work because Erika has allergies or somethin'."

"Asthma," Charlie corrected, "'parently she's got it bad. Said they were also thinking about a kid, so they obviously need lots of money."

"He really thought having a kid while in the business would be a good idea?" Jeremy asked, a puff of smoke passing by his lips.

"I think he thought he could keep lying forever and have a double life," Jack replied, "He seems too devoted to the idea of the happy middle class family lifw. One day that lie's gonna crumble." He shook his head sadly for the pitiful man.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Jeremy stopped leaning against the wall and adjusted his coat. "See you guys later," He said, nodding the head at the two men, "Uh, hope you heal well, Toby."

Toby only groaned in response. Jack and Charlie nodded back to him and began talking again as Jeremy left the room, Jack of course being audible over Charlie. Jeremy had a strange feeling he'd be seeing those guys again for another beating soon.

The only thing that got Jeremy up and at eagerly at noon on a Monday was the promise of a paycheck. He needed to stock up on more groceries, so Fransisco agreed to pay him for the week (and the beating) before he got into work. The club was definitely different with sunlight filtering through the few windows and all the chair on the tables in the main area, as if it was an average fancy restaurant.

Jeremy pushed through the door that had left ajar and he was practically beaming when thinking about that sweet check in his hands. However, before he got to Fransisco's office, he noticed Fritz talking to Jack and Cheyenne in the hallway. Jack and Fritz both seemed very concerned, though Cheyenne's concern was minimal at best (though her expression wasn't mean or salty, but more grim). They all looked at Jeremy as he walked into the scene, instantly stopping their conversation.

A thick awkward aura flooded the room. Jeremy looked around nervously, unsure of what he did wrong. "Uh… was I not supposed to hear something?" He asked, still puzzled.

"Payton, he…" Fritz spoke up, but stopped so she could cover her mouth while remorsefully looking at the floor. Her brown eyes seemed to almost be on the verge of tears. "It's his wife." Whatever she meant to say, she was obviously having trouble actually saying it.

"His wife is dead," Cheyenne interjected bluntly with a sincere and soft expression.


	11. Roomies

Cheyenne leaned against the doorframe of Jeremy's apartment. She was a young woman of average height but not so average curve and bust size. Her breasts must've been DD's, maybe more. The faded yellow tank and pink high-waisted shorts she wore hugged her body nicely. Her face was heart-shaped and always had a level of bitterness in it, suiting her constant pessimism towards every aspect of life. It was a rather hot day, so her artificially colored brown and blonde hair was in a ponytail. She tapped her acrylic nails on her arm as they rested crossed.

"You really gunna let this guy stay with you?" she asked, "To be honest, you're as sociable as a sweet potato."

Jeremy decided to ignore that remark. "Yep. Need help paying rent," he replied.

"Thought you got a raise a few weeks ago."

"Well I wanna afford cigs and food."

Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders. "Fair 'nuff."

"Besides, I doubt Payton would have a good time crashing at Ben's place."

"Ben _offered_ Payton to stay with him?"

"Apparently. Who knew the dude had heart?"

"He don't, but he gotta dick," Cheyenne muttered under her breath, adjusting the bangs hanging in her face.

Jeremy momentarily raised an eyebrow, but decided not to dwell on it. He watched as Cheyenne stepped aside for Charlie to bring in the box of some of Payton's clothes. There would be more boxes and furniture that couldn't come into Jeremy's apartment to go into storage over the course of the next few days. All the food from Payton's house had also been given to Jeremy; he knew he'd be eating good for a while. Cheyenne snagged a lot of Erika's jewelry "for a friend" when she was there.

It really was a true summer day- hot and wet air all around with the sun showing no mercy. The AC was working hard to keep Jeremy's apartment cool, but Jeremy was poor and had no money to keep it running properly. Jeremy was wearing a pair of thin slacks and a t-shirt.

Payton, who was currently rummaging around in a cardboard box of food on the kitchen table, was wearing cargo shorts and old t-shirt. His glasses sat in front on his sunken eyes that were suffering from lack of sleep after nights in his empty home. He didn't even shave the past couple of days, giving his face a patch of scraggly stubble. Simply put, he looked pretty awful.

He held up a bag that was completely in Japanese to Jeremy. "You, uh… l-like seaweed crackers?" he asked quietly.

"Nah, seaweed's nasty," Jeremy said, "Go nuts with them."

Payton muttered something else incoherently as he turned back to the box. The seaweed crackers were set down lazily next to the box.

It was about ten more minutes before Cheyenne, Charlie, and the other man Jeremy didn't recognize left. Payton was now stocking the cupboards with various chips and soup cans, still not saying much. His movements seemed shakier than usual and his face was harder to read. He looked perpetually exhausted and shaken up. Jeremy went over to him and peered into the box.

"Need help?" he said.

Payton shook his head and mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Guess that meant he had it covered.

Jeremy flopped onto the couch and lazily turned off the TV. It was Saturday, so the selection was pretty decent. He changed it to a sports channel and lied down with his head under the pillow.

"Like football?"

"No…" Payton said. He went back to stuffing a half-empty bag of chips into the microwave due to filling up the cupboard by now. The TV was set to a low volume so Jeremy could take a light nap, seeing as Payton wouldn't be making much noise.

Payton rubbed his eyes that were close to bloodshot and set down his beer. The two roommates decided to open a case of Payton's beer and talk as a mix of celebrating them being roommates and to get Payton to cheer up.

"You two actually k-k-kissed?" Payton said. His voice still sounded lifeless and hollow as it did earlier. Poor guy.

"Yeah," Jeremy responded, "I gotta admit, his ass looked like a woman's. But we were wasted and horny, and once I felt tongue I was out. I'm not like that."

"R-Really?"

"Yeah. Straight as a ruler."

Payton shrugged. "'S-S ok to b-be a lil gay."

A quick sip of beer made Jeremy pause before he continued. "True. Though I was young and horny. Guess I wanted to try it to see how it was."

Payton nodded with understanding and finished off his can to open another one. Jeremy took out a cigarette and lit it in his hand. He figured if Payton was going to start living with him, he'd have to get used to Jeremy smoking. He offered Payton one, but the other declined.

"Y-You, uh, k-kknew Fritz then, r-r-right?" Payton said.

"Yeah, why?"

"D-Did she, uh… w-w-was she always… g-gay?"

"Oh yeah. Had herself figured out by middle school. All she ever went after was girls. Think she went out with one guy in high school- it lasted two weeks."

"Heh, s-s-sounds like her," Payton chuckled.

"By the way," Jeremy asked, "Who's the albino dude? One who looks like he never gets enough sleep and hates everything."

"Uh… d-dunno what his f-first name is," Payton replied, "It's l-long and Russian. Everyone calls him 'P-Purple'."

"Purple? Why that?"

"'C-Cause all he ever w-wears is purple shirts. No one s-sees him outside of work, so we never see him in anything else. He's weird- a-always glaring at people, s-staying real close to F-F-Fransisco. T-They have h-history, I hear."

"Is he a club worker or full-time gangster?"

"A-Assistant manager of t-the club and one of F-Fransisco's most trusted a-ally, actually. Helps, um, m-make lots of g-gang decisions."

"Ever talk to him?"

"S-Sometimes. He's not the social type."

Payton finished half of his beer and wiped his mouth. It was obvious he didn't drink this much very often, by the way his cheeks were already getting flushed. "W-When'd you m-m-meet him anyway?"

"Last Saturday. Right after you ran out to go home," Jeremy responded.

"Last S-Saturday… Last Saturday," Payton repeated. He stared off into space down at the carpeted floor between his legs. Outside there was a couple getting out of their car and loudly talking and laughing. They must've com back from an evening on the town. White smoke was filling the air around Jeremy, causing Payton to let out a single cough.

"Jeremy?" Payton asked abruptly after a while of silence and clearing his throat.

"Eh?" Jeremy said with the cigarette still in his mouth.

"Y-you ever get those… u-urges?"

"Urges? Sexual?"

"N-No no! I mean, urges that are almost, uh… malicious, sorta. You don't mean to t-think of them, but they, uh, just pop into your brain. And I-I the makes you j-j-just wanna kill everything."

Jeremy paused for a second. "Doesn't everybody once in a while?"

"Not like this," Payton said, setting his drink down, "S-Sometimes my emotions get crazy and I feel angry and, uh, evil, and… I-I don't feel like… m-myself. E-Everything around me feels like, uh, a dream, b-b-but I know I'm awake."

This caught Jeremy completely off guard. "Damn, that's deep, man," he replied, breathing out smoke, "Any specific examples?"

"W-Well, last weekend-" Payton started, but suddenly cut himself off. "N-N-Nevermind."

Jeremy took out his cigarette. "What?"

"I-I said nevermind. It's n-nothing."

"You can tell me, Pay. Got something to do with Erika?

"I said it's nothing!" Payton snapped, no stutter or hesitation.

Something was definitely off with Payton; he seemed like a whole different person. Jeremy gave Payton a confused look and mashed the head of his cigarette into the ashtray. Payton had gone back to drinking. He was trying hard not to look at Jeremy. Jeremy stood up as he stretched out and cracked his joints. "I'm going to bed," he said.

"Huh? Oh, g-goodnight," Payton said quietly to his half-empty can. The noise of the streets outside had died down by now. He was trying hard to keep whatever burden he was carrying bottled up. But Jeremy wouldn't take that for an answer.

"You know if you need to talk to somebody about this, tell me," Jeremy stated firmly. He left Payton alone in the room and went to bed.

Thirty minutes later, he couldn't sleep, though didn't want to get up for melatonin- he had heard quiet sobs coming from the darkness of the living room.


	12. Two Dudes Being Bros

One week passed and Jeremy was now adjusting the collar his best button-down shirt- a brown one that had actually been ironed for once. Ben told him to dress formal, and considering Ben's elegant wardrobe, Jeremy was sure he had high standards to live up to. Then again, this was kind of one of his bosses, so impressions were everything. He just hoped his button-down and work slacks and shoes were alright- they were the fanciest things he owned after all.

Payton was lying on the couch watching TV. There was an infomercial for an over-priced portable food cooker playing at a low volume. An empty beer bottle sat on the table and a half-full one sat in his hand on the ground. Jeremy couldn't see him from where he was, but he knew Payton was wearing yesterday's t-shirt and sweatpants and sporting week-long greasy hair. He didn't know if Payton bothered to wear his glasses today.

Jeremy looked over his shoulder at him. "Don't destroy your liver while I'm out, okay?" he said, "I'll be back late." Payton mumbled something that sounded like an 'okay' in return. ' _Guess he's set,'_ Jeremy thought.

It was hotter than it had been in weeks. Jeremy felt like he was boiling in his clothes and wished he had worn something lighter. But he persevered, ignoring the beads of sweat clinging to his forehead and strands of loose hair. It was Saturday night, so the streets and sidewalk were bustling with people. Jeremy made his way around all of them, not trying to be too delicate.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he finally reached the apartment complex next to the nightclub. It was an obviously older building that had been accommodated to be more modern. There were only four stories, but it was fairly wide. Only a few windows were lit from the front view, as well as the lobby. Jeremy stepped into the lobby through the heavy glass doors, the cool air hitting him in the face. A tired-looking doorman sat at the desk reading a book. He and Jeremy made momentary eye contact, making Jeremy wonder if he was in accomplice with Fransisco.

Ben's apartment was on the third floor, fourth door from the left of the stairs. Before knocking, Jeremy fixed his ponytail and shirt, straightening himself up. He then gave a firm three thuds to the wooden door before waiting patiently. The door opened very shortly after with Ben in the doorframe. He was wear a vest and blue button down but no tie. He wasn't wearing his gloves now.

"Wow, you actually remembered the apartment number," he said smoothly, "Otherwise you may have woken up Cheyenne, and she hates her beauty sleep being ruined."

All Jeremy could do was let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, I suppose I should let you in. Take off your shoes, I can't stand dirt on the carpets."

Jeremy did as told, shutting the door behind him in the process as well. Ben's apartment was the pure embodiment of its owner- white and blue themed, everything in its proper place, not a speck of dirt in sight, and it even _smelled_ clean, The furniture was expensive-looking, though Jeremy wondered how much Ben really used most of it, considering how spotless everything looked. A TV was in the living room, but Jeremy couldn't imagine what kind of programs the dude would watch for fun.

"Are you neat drinker?" Ben, who was now in the compact kitchen, asked.

"Uh… yes," Jeremy responded uncertainly.

"Good." Ben took out a foreign brand of wine and two glasses. He uncorked the bottle and poured the velvet-colored drink in generous amounts into each glass. One was handed off to Jeremy, who took the fine china carefully.

"Thanks," Jeremy said, taking a sip. It was smooth and sweet and expensive-tasting. Certainly an upgrade from the crappy beer cans he'd usually get from the drug store near his apartment. Ben walked past him with his own wine glass and bottle in his hands to sit on the couch. Once he set the bottle on the coffee table, and looked back up at Jeremy.

"Sit," Ben ordered, patting the spot next to him. Jeremy did as told. It was a small couch, so Jeremy couldn't sit too far apart from the other.

"This brand is really good. What kind is it?" Jeremy asked, taking another long sip.

"Sinergi Viticoltura," Ben replied, "It's Mexican. Fransisco picked some up from his last visit there. I see you've taken a liking to it. I knew you would."

"Oh yeah. Better than the shit back at home. Then again, Payton's drinking all the stuff I have there right now."

"Hm? I didn't take Payton as the type to be an alcoholic."

"He's been drinking like a fish since he's moved in. Though he's letting me eat all his food, so we're even."

"Well the poor man is devastated over his loss."

"Yeah, but he drinks _a lot_. Kinda worried about him." Jeremy paused to drink more of his wine. "How's he at work?"

"Nothing too unusual. Of course, he's always moping about and looks constantly exhausted, but nothing too abnormal."

"Uh-huh, that's him at home," Jeremy said. He finished off his glass within the next couple of gulps. Ben gladly refilled it. The two were quiet as they both enjoyed their drinks. Ben was drinking his quite slowly, but Jeremy didn't take too much notice to it. It's not like Ben seemed upset about giving Jeremy as much wine as he wanted. He probably had five hundred more fancy wines in his fancy cupboards in his fancy apartment.

"So how's life for you?" Jeremy continued.

"Good, I suppose," Ben replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "Fransisco has been working me to the bone. More people are screwing up, and you and I know that just means more 'overtime', if that's what we should call it, for us. Though some of the others seem to enjoy it."

"No idea why someone would. Are they all sadists or something?"

"Who knows. Maybe some of the… other members are rubbing off on them."

"Who?"

"I believe you met her. She hardly ever comes out of her house."

"Oh, Mangle?"

Ben paused and a tiny scowl crept up onto his lip for a split second. "No, thankfully they don't get to deal with _her_. She's enough of a chore already. But I think her aura infects the other mob members."

"She doesn't seem that bad. Sure, she's pretty loopy, but seems pretty competent."

"Oh, she is. Believe me."

Jeremy looked down into his glass. He had never seen Ben so disgusted about a person before. Maybe he and Mangle butted heads a lot (though it was hard to imagine Mangle being in the right mind to not get along with someone). But Ben was still human, so Jeremy couldn't blame him for not liking a few people here and there. He took another long drink of his wine, feeling himself melt into the flavor.

"You know, I have noticed you staring at me recently," Ben suddenly said. Jeremy nearly choked on his drink, putting it down on the coffee table to avoid spilling the red liquid on the white couch as he coughed. However Ben remained calm, as if he was just talking about the weather.

"W-What?" Jeremy forced out. Ben continued to smile at him from across the couch (but Jeremy had noticed he'd inched a bit closer by now). He set down his own wine glass.

"Don't play stupid with me, Jeremy; you're smarter than that. I've noticed you watching me closely, as if with awe. Personally, I never found myself that intriguing, but I suppose you do. Why do you think that is, hmmm?"

Jeremy had absolutely nothing to say at the time. "I, uh… um," he stuttered. His cheeks were burning. A hand had been placed on top of his own now.

"Jeremy, I do like you. I find you much more tolerable than most of the imbeciles here. You follow orders and are competent enough to not break the rules. Yet, you possess a certain charm of a rebel." Ben was now even closer, so close that their noses were nearly touching. Somehow Ben was completely calm, but his eyes showed intrigue and hunger If Ben was planning on slitting his throat, now would be a good opportunity to.

"Jeremy?" Ben said in a hushed voice, "You _do_ like me, right?"

It wasn't like Jeremy had expected this night to go like this, but he wasn't complaining (at least, not vocally). Ben was just as good with his mouth as the fluid words he spoke in conversation. His lips were really soft as he laid on Jeremy's chest, sucking on his jawline; Ben must've done this a hundred times to be that good. His slender features were kind of like a woman's, so Jeremy could imagine if it was one if he wanted to- he had enough alcohol in his system for that.

"You look adorable, love," Ben purred, "Blushing like a schoolgirl. What happened to stoic and cold Jeremy, hmmm?"

Jeremy turned his head away, despite knowing his ears were burning red. "N-Not my fault you feel like a chic," he stammered, "You have the body of a s-schoolgirl."

"Oh, would you prefer someone more masculine? You know, Charlie is quite good in bed, and good lord, he's like a tree with skin."

"No!" Jeremy snapped. He was resisting the urge to lower his hands away from Ben's back while the other moved to his neck. Ben hummed with amusement after leaving a particularly nasty mark. Jeremy glanced back at him. "W-What's with t-that?"

"You know, you have the option to leave at any time. I can easily replace you," Ben replied before moving up to Jeremy's mouth to seal it with his own. Jeremy didn't object too bad to feeling a tongue wriggle into his own mouth. He tasted the wine Ben barely touched.

' _Fine, I'll kiss him a bit and it'll be over,'_ Jeremy thought, ' _We're just tipsy. I'll use that excuse and leave soon. Just a bit tipsy, is all…'_

The sun peeking through the curtains beat down right into Jeremy's eyes. After stirring and letting out a tired groan, he blinked his eyes open. The bed he was in was huge and had soft white sheets. There were minimalist yet elegant furniture and other things around the room, including a dresser and desk on opposite sides on the room. A medium-sized bookshelf was next to the desk. No photographs were displayed in the room.

It took Jeremy a bit, but he finally realized that he was definitely not in his own house. He sat up and felt goosebumps prick his bare chest- he was naked. His ass hurt bad too. ' _Oh no, no no no, this isn't happening,'_ he thought in a panic.

However to his misfortune, lying next to him was Ben's pale body sleeping soundly. He was shirtless and had serious bed head. Jeremy's heart dropped. "Oh fuck!" He hissed, scrambling out of the sheets.

His clothes had been thrown to a different part of the room in an unorderly fashion. He dressed himself quickly, not bothering to tie his shoes after grabbing them from where he left them on the doormat. There was no way in hell he'd face Ben after whatever they did last night, which Jeremy barely remembered now that he thought about it. He didn't even want to think about what work will be like a Monday. He left without any hesitation.

When he left the apartment complex through the side stairs, he crashed into someone right outside the door. It was Purple, who was smoking and rubbing something red off his face. ' _Lipstick…? Looks like Mangle's color,'_ Jeremy thought. The other was obviously not happy about being crashed into, unless that was just his default expression.

"S-Sorry," Jeremy said, then looking at Purple's cigarette. He took out one of his own, but had realized he left his lighter at Ben's after rummaging in his pockets, and he'd rather not go back for it. "Shit, you got a lighter?"

Purple handed him one and Jeremy thanked him for it. "So, uh, what're you doing here so early?" Jeremy asked.

It took Purple a few seconds of a silent cold stare to respond. "I live here," he said flatly, "Landlord hates 't when I smoke 'n the buildin'."

"Oh," Jeremy responded.

"But you don' live here."

"I was visiting someone. Was that lipstick on your cheek?"

"Yeah, so?"

Jeremy didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, he just waved Purple goodbye and went on his way. However, he pretended not to hear the other say something as he was speed walking off.

"Nice hickeys, Fitzgerald."


	13. Boys and Toys

Jeremy bought concealer from the drug store on his way home. It was a chain pharmacy that was open nearly 24/7 all year- good for short grocery and cigarette runs after work. There was no one in the building at the time except for a tired woman with crinkly brown hair. She looked to be in her mid 20s, but too old to be in college still. The bags under her dark eyes suggested she was sleep deprived and possibly a smoker. Eyeliner and mascara had been sloppily pasted over her bags. She muttered a greeting with a face drained of any emotion when Jeremy walked in.

When Jeremy quickly grabbed his concealer color and put it on the counter, the clerk looked at the concealer, then back up at him. Jeremy could now see the clerk's name tag read 'Jennifer.' "That's all?" she asked in a monotone voice.

"Uh… pack of Pall Mall, too," Jeremy replied. The Jennifer scanned cigarette pack along with the concealer. Jeremy decided to get a bag to use as a trash bag at home. Jennifer told him to has a nice day as pleasantly as she greeted him and Jeremy repeated the phrase back to her.

The last thing Jeremy expected to see when he came home was Payton making coffee while almost firmly standing on two feet, albeit a bit slumped. He was actually wearing his glasses today, and there was no alcohol in sight. The clock read 10:42. ' _Damn, how long was I up last night?'_ Jeremy thought.

"Oh, h-hey," Payton mumbled, pushing his glasses up.

"Hey," Jeremy replied, then kicking off his shoes near the door, "Surprised to see you up. What's with that?"

Payton shrugged. "D-Dunno. Just w-was. But m-my, uh, head h-hurts a lot."

"Well yeah, you probably drank like a fish without me here. How many did you have?"

"Uh… I'unno."

Jeremy nodded and look around the place. Looked the same as how he left it, which wasn't that clean. But neither of them cared enough to really do anything about it, so the clutter was the natural state of Jeremy's place. The coffee maker beeped loudly and Payton began pouring himself a cup.

"W-Where were you?" Payton asked suddenly.

Jeremy's cheeks flushed at the question. "Thought I told you Ben invited me for drinks," he replied.

"Y-Yeah, but… a-all night? Just d-drinking?"

"Yeah… well, I ended up passing out and Ben let me sleep on the couch."

That earned a raised eyebrow from Payton."Really? H-He l-l-et you do t-that?"

"Mmm-hmm. Yep."

"O-Oh… ok," Payton said, turning back to him coffee mug to put some sugar in it. Jeremy knew he knew what happened. Payton was depressed and shaken up at the moment, but he was no fool; he must've pieced together the pieces easily.

"Can you make me a cup too?" Jeremy asked, "I'll make some eggs and toast after my shower if you want some. I'll also get you some Advil if you need some."

Payton nodded. "I-I… that'll be n-nice."

The two men sat down and ate quietly. Jeremy had draped a towel around his neck, partially to cover the hickeys (which Payton either didn't notice or ignored earlier), and was wearing a muscle shirt and boxers. Payton was still wearing yesterday's clothes and his hair was sticking in random directions.

"Hey Payton," Jeremy asked after swallowing a mouthful of eggs, "You said you don't know much about Purple, right?"

Payton nodded in response while drinking his coffee.

"Are he and Mangle dating?"

Payton gave a confused look and swallowed the rest of his coffee. "W-W-Why would y-you think that?" He questioned.

"Well, I saw him this morning. He had lipstick on his cheek, and I think it was Mangle's color. They're both weirdos, so I guess they'd match."

Payton cracked the smallest smile- something Jeremy hadn't seen him do in weeks. "I, uh, h-hate to b-break it you, b-but… they're c-cousins."

Jeremy nearly choked on his food. "What? Seriously?" he said with his mouth full.

"Y-Yeah, I couldn't b-believe it either. They're l-like… p-polar opposites. F-Fransisco got M-Mangle a b-bit after Purple j-joined the gang, or s-so I've h-heard."

"Wow… whod've thought…" Jeremy suddenly remembered what Ben told him last night. "Also, do you know why Ben hates Mangle?"

"N-No," Payton replied, "I-I don't t-talk to either of t-them much. A-Ask Ben the n-next time you see him."

The flush returned to Jeremy's face. "I-I'm not seeing him again. It was a mistake going over there."

"S-So, uh, what h-happened last night?"

"I just got tipsy and did something stupid," Jeremy said.

"L-Like what?"

"We… we kissed, OK?"

"D-Did you l-like it?"

"Yeah, with the alcohol in my system. Felt like a woman's lips, so I imagined that."

"N-Nothing to be a-a-ashamed of, y-y'know."

"It was weird…" Jeremy finished off his food and started drinking his coffee. There's no way he'd give Payton the satisfaction of going into detail or reveal what really happened. Jeremy Fitzgerald still had some dignity left.

Suddenly Jeremy's cellphone went off from the kitchen counter. Jeremy stretched his arm to grab it, then looking at the name. ' _Fritz'_ was on the screen. Jeremy groaned and answered it.

"What's up, Fritz?" he grumbled.

' _Hiya, Jer!'_ Fritz 's bubbly voiced chimed through the phone, ' _Sorry, I'll make it quick. Heard you got lucky last night. Nice job getting with the sex god gangster!'_

Jeremy felt his cheeks burn. He looked over at Payton nervously, who gave him raised eyebrows in return. ' _God dammit, Fritz,'_ he thought.

Mangle swung open the basement door as her grand entrance. She was wearing as much makeup and jewelry as usual- a lady always had to look her best for any occasion or outing. Hooked to her arm was a worn-out Foxy, whose eye looked drained of all trace that something alive was in there. Mangled was so thrilled Foxy was behaving with that special tea she gave him. She loved it when he was a good boy. She also slipped some into the night guard's mug, so he wouldn't be any trouble.

"Hello, darlings, we're back~" she cooed to the rest of the basement dwellers. No one else looked up at her. Mangle pouted, but decided it was no use to make a fuss. She pulled Foxy along as she made it down the stairs, her heeled boots clicking loudly. "Foxy and I had such a wonderful time! He let me touch inside a lot this time, right dear~?"

Foxy barely made out a low groan. That was a good enough answer. As Mangle went to prop Foxy against the wall, she saw that the Italian man was up. She had never seen him pay attention to her before. Plus he wasn't cute like the rest of the people in the basement. Mangle didn't like the Italian man.

"Does that give you ecstasy, you demented witch?" Freddy growled, "Repeatedly opening his guts and kissing him while he's drugged?"

"Oh, it's so much fun," Mangle replied, "It's all fun and games, isn't it Foxy~?"

Foxy looked completely out of touch with reality, so he nodded. Freddy clenched his teeth and sat up from his hunched position.

"You sicken me. I know I'll be seeing you in hell soon enough."

Mangle frowned and walked over to Freddy. She looked down upon him and tilted her head with confusion. "And why's that, dear?" she asked. Her voice was not bubble anymore.

"Because you're a deranged psychopath who gets pleasure out of the torturing of others!" Freddy snarled, "You think this is all a game, don't you? And you must be a witch, considering how you're magically able to revive him, you-"

Freddy was cut off by the heel of Mangle's boot crushing his hand. Freddy let out a grunt and Italian swear of pain, but didn't want to give Mangle the pleasure of hearing him howl with pain, despite how badly it hurt. It was what she wanted.

"I don't like that tone of voice, mister," Mangle said, her words very held back and almost trembling. She dug her heel harder into Freddy's hand. Freddy could now feel blood pooling around the heel. "I would play with you, but you're naughty. Naughty boys must be punished."

After a little bit more of digging, Mangle released Freddy's hand. Freddy grabbed it and held it close to his chest, not caring about the blood staining his shirt. He would be glad if he bled out from this.

"I'll come back with bandages, and you _better_ say sorry when I get back, or you'll be very sorry," Mangle order, turning around and going up the stairs. Freddy heard the door close shut and he fell onto his side.

He woke up Bonnie and Chica from sleep with his wail of pain.


	14. Late Night Chats

Jeremy woke up from his pleasant on-duty nap to a harsh knocking on the door. He expected to see Fransisco needing him to beat someone up, or worse, Ben finally interracting to him again. It had been over half way into the work week and Jeremy had been avoiding Ben at all costs; it was as if they reverted back to the old days. Though, he couldn't decide if he liked it better then or not.

However, to his relief it was Cheyenne standing in the doorway this time. She was still wearing that faded yellow tank top but now with cheerleader shorts and her hair down this time- probably was getting ready for bed. She looked pretty tired, despite not heading out at all today to Jeremy's knowledge. Jeremy raised his head and rubbed one of his eyes.

"Did I interrupt somethin'?" Cheyenne asked softly and sarcastically.

"N-No, just… haven't been sleeping well lately," Jeremy replied, feeling a bit embarrassed over Cheyenne's reaction.

"Hmph." Cheyenne folded her arms and looked around the office. It was just as untidy and

"So… you need something?"

"Nah, jus' wanna chat."

Jeremy felt the pit in his stomach grow. He had a feeling she was asking about Jeremy's new found partner. The last thing he wanted right now was to talk about that incident.

"How's Payton?"

"Huh?" Jeremy asked, both relieved and confused.

"Payton. How's he doin'? It's only been a few weeks since, y'know... but still."

"Oh, he's, uh, fine, I guess," Jeremy replied, "He's started eating regularly and tries to actually have conversations in the morning. Still drinking, but a bit less than before. Could use a shave."

It was hard to believe Payton had only been living with Jeremy for a couple weeks now; it had felt like months. There was no transition period, and Jeremy wasn't best friends with the guy, so it felt like Payton just appeared out of thin air onto his couch. Jeremy didn't even mind having him around, and actually kind of like having the company.

But Jeremy had realized something about Payton over the small eternity spent with him: Payton was the least malicious gang member Jeremy knew. Not even close to violent. He never physically hurt someone, as Payton had said and shown before.

This soft character of Payton was shown last Sunday; the Sunday after the night Jeremy explored his sexuality.

 _He and Jeremy were eating dinner, with Jeremy sitting at the table and Payton on the couch. The two had ordered Chinese takeout and we're watching the news (though neither really paid attention, so the volume was low). Payton was helping himself to some beer he picked up earlier that week and was having more than he probably should, but Jeremy didn't want to stop him; he knew Payton was trying to drink less. They ate and drank in silence until Payton was on the verge of being wasted and broke the silence._

" _Erika…" Payton slurred quietly. He always did this when he was drunk- moan about Erika and being sorry. Jeremy had learned to ignore it by now and act like he wasn't there. It was quiet for a couple more minutes. "J-Jer? You therrre?"_

" _Yeah, what?" Jeremy had sighed, finally giving in._

" _Y-You think Erika i-i-is gonna h-haunt me?"_

" _No Payton, it's not your fault she died. You said she had an asthma attack and died., so she can't blame you."_

" _B-But… I d-didn't wanna hurt her, J-Jer," Payton groaned, "J-Just wanna k-keep her safe… d-didn'nt wanna h-hurt her… never…"_

 _Silence._

" _It's all m-my f-f-fault… 'm so s-sorry," Payton mummbled. He was crying to himself now._

 _The two hadn't spoke again for the rest of the night. When Jeremy got up the next morning, Payton was knocked out on the couch, snoring lightly. Jeremy went for a run before breakfast that morning to avoid making too much noise. It was fairly cloudy that day. Payton was up but had a hangover by the time Jeremy got back._

"Hello? Earth to Jeremy?"

Jeremy snapped out of his spacing out when recollected to see Cheyenne still in the doorway, looking sour as usual.

"S-Sorry," Jeremy apologized, "You say something?"

"No, I- actually, I have somethin' to say. Next time you 'n Ben get together, you better keep it down, or I'll bang on the wall 'till you shut up. You're one of the loudest ones Ben's slept with so far."

Jeremy's mouth went dry and he got flustered. He forgot about Cheyenne living next door to Ben. to Ben. Oops. "Oh… y-yeah, sorry about that," he said quietly.

"Hmph," was all Cheyenne huffed before turning on her heel and leaving. Jeremy turned back around in his swivel chair and watched Cheyenne leave through the cameras. He thought about Ben again, wondering how much they did that night. Just the thought made him immediately push the thought out of his mind.

' _I'm not going back to his place,'_ Jeremy thought, ' _It was just a one time thing. Not gonna let that creep have his way.'_ It didn't take Jeremy long to go back to sleep with his head down on his desk. Fransisco was in his office with a gun, he could handle any robbers (whoever would be stupid enough to break into this place anyways).

Ben slipped into Fransisco's office when he finally heard Fransisco finish talking on the phone. He had been talking for over an hour with someone in his family, ranging from affectionate teases to borderline yelling. It wouldn't be surprised if ever one of the Fonsecos were like Fransisco- loud, charming, and love to watch people suffer. They sounded like fun. Fransisco looked up at Ben when he saw him step in and sighed. Ben smiled back at him.

"What was all that about?" Ben asked.

"My mama and lil' brother," Fransisco stated gruffly, "Mama was going on and on about never seeing me anymore. I'd like to see her in this office and deal with my half-wit staff every fucking day." He looked down at Ben's attire. White collared shirt, dress pants, and shiny shoes- what he was wearing earlier. "What do you want?"

"Oh Fransisco, I can't stop in and have a friendly chat with my boss?"

If you're looking for a good time, keep your dick to yourself. I'm not one of the low-tier gangsters you love to get drunk and seduce."

"You think I'm stupid enough to use those elementary parlor tricks on you? I think you underestimate me, sir," Ben retorted, "I just wanted to chat. Cross my heart." He'd never admit it, but he secretly loved these late night chats with Fransisco. No one trying to distract them, no club patrons, no work to be done- just them and the smell of cigars. Fransisco lit another one and Ben silently took in the rich signature smell of Fransisco.

"Is Jeremy asleep?" Fransisco asked with the cigar in his mouth.

"Yes. Completely out."

"Figures. Griffiths probably keeps him up all night with his damn talking. I almost feel sorry for the guy."

"Well no one else seems to want to listen to Payton. Jeremy is just unfortunate enough to have to deal with it."

"Or maybe he's still in mental shock about how hardly you fucked him Saturday."

Ben was slightly surprised, but smirked at that comment. "Cheyenne told you?"

"The news got to me eventually. She can hear everything you do, you know."

"I know. But he was so into it, I couldn't tell him to quiet down."

"This your way of control? Just threaten to stab him if he fucks up; worked on him the first time."

"Fransisco, I have him wrapped around my finger," Ben reassured, "Plus, he may be my new favorite soon. I love the way his body moves and those large muscles and-"

"I've heard enough," Fransisco interrupted, "Go to bed, ya weirdo."

Ben sighed dramatically. "You're so cold, Fransisco," he cooed, "Have a good night." He left the office and closed the door behind him, not letting Fransisco see the wide smile on his face. There was a reason why Fransisco made him one of his right-hand men: he kept everyone in line better than Fransisco could at times. Though, there was always benefits.

Though one this was certain now; Ben would have to make sure to get together with Jeremy again soon.


	15. Bad Romance and Good Romance

Jeremy felt the itch. No, he didn't feel like an addict. Addicts need their fix to survive and function like a normal person, even if their addiction is killing them within. Addicts couldn't last more than two or three days without their sweet fix. No, Jeremy was not an addict. But he felt an itch- an itch to see Ben again.

Jeremy had spent several days wondering how he really felt about that Saturday night. After careful insight, he had concluded that he didn't fully enjoy having sex with a gay sociopath and hardly remembered what exactly happened the morning after. Then again, he couldn't truthfully say he didn't hate it. It had been nearly months since he last had sex at all, and cheap porn on the Internet and his own means had entertained him since. But actually being intimate with someone else felt nice, like something pent up had been released.

He sighed and crushed the head of his cigarette into the ashtray. Thinking too much about his sexuality just left him frustrated in the end every time he thought about it. It'd probably be best to just deal with it and see what happens.

He looked at the microwave clock. It was nearly six on a Saturday, so Payton would be home fairly soon. Payton had recently started covering an afternoon shift every Saturday until Fransisco found a new guy to take his place.

Though he didn't seem to mind, since he would be getting paid more. Plus it was a lot calmer in the day because nothing really happened, aside from weekly cleanings of all the hallways by the two janitors. The security office gets cleaned on Sunday, but just the floors- no one cared enough to clean the desk. Fransisco's office was thoroughly cleaned one every other Sunday under the supervision of either Ben, Cheyenne, or Purple.

Jeremy decided to take a long shower to clear his head. This shower was much longer than usual due to Jeremy standing and thinking for most of the shower duration. It felt nice having the steamy water run down his body and hair, but it couldn't wash away the memory of Ben and his tender touches. Nothing would, really.

When Jeremy finally finished his shower and stepped out in just his sweatpants, he noticed Payton standing in the kitchen. He was still in his uniform and had a fast food bag in his hand. He gave a sheepish smile. "S-Sorry I d-didn't bring you a-a-anything," he apologized, "T-thought y-you were gonna h-have leftovers f-for dinner, s-so I…"

"Nah, it's fine," Jeremy reassured, "I'm down with leftovers."

The two men eventually sat down at the table to eat their dinners. Payton had gotten a burger, onion rings, and medium Pepsi (which Payton was kind enough to give Jeremy a taste of) and was eating quietly. Jeremy just heated up leftover Chinese takeout and had beer to go with it. Most of the meal was small talk between the two, as usual.

"B-Ben a-a-asked about you t-today," Payton commented at one point. This was the one thing to make Jeremy stop eating.

"What did he say…?" Jeremy asked wearily.

"J-Just wanted t-to know h-how you were. S-Said you w-were a-avoiding him."

"Well yeah, we kinda crossed boundaries we shouldn't have. I fucked up badly."

"Literally," Payton added sarcastically as he took another swig of his drink.

"Fuck off," Jeremy snapped.

Payton snorted and smiled while the straw was still in his mouth. He rarely ever laughed nowadays. "S-Sorry, y-you set y-y-yourself up there. B-But seriously, a-avoiding him i-isn't gonna h-help it. Y-you're gonna h-have to see him e-eventually. M-Maybe try… t-talking to h-him?"

"Gee, only problem with that is that I don't think Ben feels emotions. All he has is smiling way too much and fucking anything with a dick."

"Y-You'd be s-surprised. P-Plus he's m-more than j-just that."

Jeremy rolled his eyes and smirked. "Oh, so you've slept with him too?"

Payton momentarily choked on an onion ring and his face lit up red. "N-No!" he replied hastily. Jeremy chuckled at his display.

At around nine, Jeremy came out of his room in a fitting t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, ready to go out on the town. The cologne he wore smelled strongly of masculinity, but not overpowering. Payton was sitting on the couch and watching a cop show with no alcohol in sight. He looked sleepy but conscious. Jeremy tried to not look suspicious, though that'd be hard since Payton knew Jeremy had no social life.

When he was one step away from the door and Payton noticed him. "G-Going out?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah," Jeremy replied, "I don't when I'll be back. Can you hold down the fort?"

"N-No problem," Payton confirmed. As Jeremy opened the front door and stepped out, he heard Payton say one last thing before he left, but decided not to say anything. It was too embarrassing to admit to his intentions.

"B-Ben's home t-tonight, j-j-just so you know."

Jeremy looked at his feet when he knocked on the apartment door at the end of the hall. It was humiliating the way he, a full-grown muscular manly man, was acting like a highschool girl with a crush in sophomore year. He knew he should've talked to Ben earlier, but he had no idea what to even say. Guess he'd have to know what to say now.

' _No shame in this, just two consenting adults being co-workers with benefits,'_ he thought to himself. Though he knew there was a lot of shame on his part in reality.

Ben opened the door while Jeremy was deep in thought. He was wearing a button-up pajama shirt and silky bottoms- probably was getting ready for bed. He gave Jeremy a sly smile when the two made eye contact.

"Stopped avoiding me at last, love?" he asked coolly.

"Was in the neighborhood, is all," Jeremy lied, which he knew Ben could see right through that lie.

"To do what, pay a 'visit' Cheyenne to reassure yourself that you're still heterosexual? She hasn't been sexual since her last job, you know."

"She'd kill me if I tried. So can I come in?"

Ben leaned against the door frame and folded his arms with amusement. "I don't know. I was in the middle of a program, and I usually don't allow for last minute drop-ins. Why should I, hm?"

It took a bit of hesitation before Jeremy could muster up a stupid response. "Fuck you, that's why." He sealed their lips together as he let himself inside, the other's lips still as soft as ever.

Ben smiled into the kiss. "Oh but Jeremy," he said in a husky voice when they stopped kissing momentarily, "You're the one being fucked, remember?"

Cheyenne couldn't sleep. Ben had over yet another guest and it sounded like two bears were wrestling next to her room. It had only been a week and the new guy already came stumbling back to that play boy. No one really knew how he did it; maybe he made a deal with the devil to become a male sex magnet.

She considered getting up to watch TV, but there wouldn't be much on except re-runs of game shows from the nineties (which Ben liked for some reason). So she chose her next option- seeing a fellow gang member. She slipped on a hoodie to look modest and donned her sandals before heading out. It was dim in the apartment complex halls. She went downstairs and to an apartment near the side door, then knocked on the door before her.

"Please, please, please don't let that albino asshole be there," she muttered under her breath. Purple always gave her an uneasy feeling, with the way her glared at everything and never talked clearly. Of course she'd never let anyone see that, though.

She'd also never let anyone know that she secretly loved going to see Maggie in private. She really did feel safe with her, as if the side of her that drowned in false fantasies and insanity didn't exist, even for just a moment.

After roughly a minute of waiting, Cheyenne heard the door unlock and stepped back as it opened. Maggie towered over her in her usual costume-like attire and white mask. She smiled down at Cheyenne with a toothy grin.

"Oh my heavens, Cheyenne!" she exclaimed, "What brings you down here?" She bent down to give Cheyenne a smooch on the cheek. Cheyenne pretended to enjoy having lipstick stain her just-washed face.

"Ben has a friend over and they're being loud. Can I pretty please stay here for an hour or so?"

Maggie became overjoyed and clasped her hands together. "Oh I would love that~! Come in, please, darling!" She scooted Cheyenne inside and shut the door, more than eager to accommodate her guest.

Maggie's apartment was certainly a sight. A sea of clutter and beauty junk was strewn across all furniture- accessories, makeup bottles, brushes, and clothes everywhere. The wallpaper was a dark pink with stripes and the floor was carpeted an old beige color, with the exception of the kitchen, which was tile. No phones were in sight, but an old-looking TV sat in the compact living room. The furniture she had in the living room and eating area looked old too; like what you'd find at thrift stores from the 1960s. Though the kitchen looked fairly modern compared to the best of the house.

"Would you like some tea and cookies?" Maggie asked after going into to the kitchen. Surprisingly, not much clutter was in the kitchen.

"Just tea, please," Cheyenne replied. She sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head on her propped up hand. God, she was tired.

Three minutes later, tea and a few Italian cookies sat on the table on plates, along with silver sugar cubes and creamer bowls. Maggie sat directly across from Cheyenne and readily poured her a ceramic cup of tea. Cheyenne took a drink of the brown liquid. It was too sweet for her personal taste, but Maggie made it, so it wasn't too bad. Maggie seemed to be enjoying her cup, too.

"Who got you the cookies?" Cheyenne asked.

"Oh, Patrushev got them for me~," Maggie replied with glee, "He's always bringing me goodies from his nights out. Isn't he so good to me?"

"Who… oh, him," Cheyenne said, momentarily forgetting Purple actually had a name, "Well, ain't you two cousins and came to this gang together?"

"Yes, we're very close. He said I meant the world to him!"

Cheyenne smiled heavenly and nodded as Maggie rambled on. This was a side of Maggie nobody saw because everybody just saw crazy old Mangle, and Cheyenne loved knowing Maggie like this. Her mental health wasn't the best, but sitting and down and talking with her showed that she was still full of life and emotions. It was like heaven in this little room at this moment, and she savored every second.

Time slipped away as Cheyenne spent well over an hour talking with Maggie, even if her tea got cold ages ago.


	16. A Filthy Man

**A/N: Yes this chapter made me change the rating to Mature due to light guro and vomitting. Please proceed with caution**

It was Sunday, which meant only one thing to most of the workers: pay day had arrived. Wanting to go get some new clothes and hair products, Fritz made sure to get there at the crack of noon. Everyone else was filing into the building by then, some looking more sleep deprived than others due to not waking up that early. Though it was never too early for Fritz Smith when cash was involved.

Cheyenne was helping Fransisco hand out the sealed checks as people crowded into the office to get their pay. Cheyenne herself had also looked pretty tired, like she barely slept last night. She muttered Fritz's name when looking through the stack of checks in her hand and handed Fritz her check. Fritz hurriedly squeezed out of the crowd so she could get to the stores before the lunch rush crowded the roads.

That is, until she saw Payton leaning against the wall and opening his check. This was actually one of the best conditions Fritz had seen Payton in since Erika's death. Sure, he still looked constantly worn-out, but at least he had put an effort into looking presentable.

"Yo, Pay!" Fritz exclaimed as she walked over to Payton. Payton stopped his task and smiled at Fritz.

"Hey F-F-Fritz," he replied, "S-See you 're h-happy about g-getting payed."

"Why wouldn't I be? Sunday's like a holy day for workers here. Pay checks give us life, and without them we're pretty much mole people eating dirt."

Payton chuckled at Fritz's exaggeration. "Y-Yeah, g-getting payed is a b-benefit of this j-job."

"I bet you got a fat paycheck. How much is it anyways?"

"Enough to p-pay Jeremy's r-r-rent this m-month. H-He's been so h-hospitable, I-I-I have to m-make it up to him."

"Aw, what a nice guy!" Fritz said, playfully punching Payton in the arm, "Say, where is he anyways? He's always super eager to get his paycheck so he can smoke more."

Payton's smile faded and he looked at the ground, then up at the ceiling. "Um, h-he, uh… s-should've been back b-by now. P-Probably s-s-stayed up l-late. M-Maybe he d-did a morning s-session, too."

"Back from what? Clubbing? Yoga? Spit it out, man!"

Payton's cheeks lightly flushed. "O-Oh, uh… y-y-y'know how h-he and B-Ben have become, um… c-closer, recently?

"What the- oh…," Fritz said when it finally hit her, "To be honest, I didn't expect him to willingly go back so quickly."

"Y-Yeah, i-it's only b-been a week s-since they f-first did i-it."

"I know. I thought it'd be like three weeks tops until he even looked at Ben again. You think Jeremy fell for him?"

"I-I don't know. J-Jeremy doesn't s-s-seem like the t-type to f-fall in l-love that q-quickly."

"He's full of surprises, trust me," Fritz responded, "Hey, I'm going out drinking with Jack and some others later. You wanna go?"

"N-Nah, I'm t-trying n-not to d-drink as m-much…" Payton said quietly.

"Oh shit, I forgot. Sorry."

"I-It's alright."

The two stood together in awkward silence until Payton change the subject. "H-Hey, y-you knew Jeremy i-in high s-school, r-right?" he asked.

"Yep," Fritz confirmed, "We were pretty close buddies. I mean, a gay black girl and a bi-curious Native American boy weren't exactly popular with the normal crowd, so we just had each other, y'know?"

"I, uh, g-get it. Ever s-slept over a-a-at his h-house, o-or, uh, v-vice versa?"

"Once after a party he let me crash on his couch for the night. His mom was super cool about it and she let me eat breakfast there that morning. That was the only time. Why?"

"O-Oh just w-wondering… d-did he h-have, um, nightmares w-when he was i-in high s-school?"

"Nightmares? Don't we all?"

"I-I mean like… v-vivid nightmares. L-Like when y-you wake up screaming."

Fritz shook her head and looked concerned. "No, never," she replied, "He never mentioned having that bad of dreams. Is he OK?"

"U-Um, well, t-two days ago…" Payton began, trying to remember as best as he could.

 _Two nights ago he had been up late after being unable to take the nap he wanted to take and watching some reruns of The Price is Right, keeping the volume just above a whisper to not awake Jeremy in the other room. Jeremy had spent the night with Ben the previous night, and had a shift that night, so he needed his sleep. So, nothing new._

 _Though Payton practically jumped out of his seat and suffered a momentary heart attack when a scream pierced the air. It wasn't hard to know it came from Jeremy's room. However, Payton had never heard Jeremy express such an emotion before, so this was new. It was as if he had been shot in the kneecap while he was asleep. Payton leapt out of his spot on the couch, put some pajama pants over his briefs, and rushed to Jeremy's room._

 _He found Jeremy sitting up in his bed when he rushed in. Jeremy was attempting to light a cigarette and not being too successful with it due to his visibly shaking hands. He had one hand firmly clutching his abdomen. He snapped his head to Payton's direction when he came in, eyes as wide as a deer in headlights._

" _J-Jeremy…" Payton said, "Y-You doing o-okay? W-What was t-that?"_

" _N-Nothing!" Jeremy snapped while the cigarette was still hanging out of his mouth, obviously trying to act cool, "J-Jus' a… dream. Got a b-bit scared there, 's all. Just a dream, just a dream."_

" _You s-sure? S-Scared me half t-to death there."_

" _Yeah, yeah, I just o-overreacted," Jeremy said as he finally lit the cigarette. He inhaled the deadly smoke with relief, but was still shaking. Payton was teased as being gullible by some co-workers, but he certainly wasn't stupid._

" _R-Really? Y-You look u-upset, and…," Payton responded, temporarily getting distracted when he noticed small water droplets at the corners of Jeremy's eyes- another thing Jeremy never did. "Wait, a-are you c-crying?"_

" _What, no! Argh, j-just leave me alone, will ya?"_

 _Payton was very concerned for his friend, but didn't want to be yelled at any more. He carefully shut the door and sighed. For a moment, Jeremy almost looked like Erika when she had a bad dream and sobbed into Payton's chest in the middle of the night. 'Erika…' he thought as a pit formed in his chest._

 _The last things Payton remembered doing before leaving for work that day was drowning out the painful memory in alcohol and not seeing Jeremy at all the rest of the evening._

"H-He looked s-so upset…" Payton finished in the present, "I've n-never seen h-him like that before. W-Wish I could've d-done something."

Fritz gave a worried expression, but smile gently at Payton. "He probably just needed alone time," Fritz replied, "You're fine."

"I-I just hope h-he is." Even if Payton did absolutely nothing wrong, he still felt guilty. But Fritz's sympathetic words and arm rub helped a bit, at least at that moment.

"Well, see you around, Pay. Keep me updated on Jeremy if you can."

"S-Sure," Payton said, waving Fritz good-bye as she headed for the front door of the club. Payton went out the back and drove back to Jeremy's place without the radio on, just silence veiled over the engine running and traffic noises outside. He considered calling Jeremy to see how he was, but he didn't want to bother Jeremy again, especially if he was exhausted from the night before.

When he went through the front door, he was greeted by the TV being on and a pair of shoes sitting next to the door. An empty cup of yakisoba sat on the coffee table with a fork stuck in it.

"Hey, J-Jeremy," Payton said, attempting to sound positive.

Jeremy never responded to that greeting. He just blankly stared at the TV as he lied on the couch without any emotion or life in his eyes. Payton ate breakfast at the table in silence.

Saturday night was ruined when Jeremy woke up in a cold sweat. He sat up in Ben's bed and breathed heavily after almost screaming. This had been one of the worst nightmares he had had in awhile, and the worst part was that it had felt so real.

 _Jeremy came into consciousness when he was sitting up at the head of a bed with his shirt off in Ben's room. Ben was seated between his open legs, head down at Jeremy's stomach- literally. Jeremy's abdomen had been split open to reveal his entrails and organs spilling out, and Ben was feasting on him with delight. However, it wasn't painful, though Jeremy still felt scared by the calmness of a horrid situation._

 _Ben stopped eating and looked up at Jeremy, wiping his bloody mouth with his white shirt sleeve. He gave a sickening and lustful smile at Jeremy. "You rotten pig," dream Ben said in a husky voice, "Even your inside are dirty, and you love it when I tear you apart. A pitiful creature like you can't escape me. How disgusting."_

 _Jeremy couldn't respond, not because he was scared but because he physically couldn't say anything. He could only watch as Ben's talked to him and blood ran down his face._

" _You're a sinful man, Mr. Fitzgerald."_

 _Suddenly, dream Ben's face melted into the sickening pale face with dripping black eyes and crooked smile- the one present in so many other nightmares. The thing that once resembled Ben opened its mouth to a sea of teeth and went into to bite Jeremy's face. Then the dream ended at that last flash of black._

That was a particularly horrible dream, and Jeremy swore it was real. He felt his abdomen as a safe measure, and was relieved to find all of his organs in place where they belong. He looked over at Ben, who was thankfully still asleep, or at least looked asleep seeing how still he was.

Then something stirred within Jeremy, and it wasn't fear this time. He hopped out of the bed and locked himself inside of Ben's bathroom. He then emptied all of the contents of his stomach, mostly consisting of that night's wine from Ben's shelf and dinner's fast food, into the toilet.

A good amount of time afterwards was spent leaning against the sink base on the floor to deal with his spinning head and feeling like he was falling apart in his brain. The whole world seemed unreal in the white-tiled and cream-colored walled bathroom. The smell alone was almost too clean, and almost made Jeremy's stomach freak out again.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Jeremy muttered, really wishing he had a cigarette right now.


	17. Something Important is Missing

It was a rainy Thursday of late July. The whole world seemed like it was moving sluggishly as it sloshed through the mini lakes of dirty water on the sidewalks and roads. It was barely noon and the weather was drowning some roads and bringing a good chunk of foot traffic to a halt. The fat drops hit the windows of Jeremy's apartment relentlessly, causing Payton to turn up the TV volume slightly so he can hear the news.

Jeremy was leaning against the counter of the kitchen waiting for his and Payton's microwave lasagna to hurry up. He wasn't really paying attention to the news or anything else other than his own thoughts.

He felt dirty. His nightmares weren't getting any less painful, and he was having a least once a week. Naps at work were now dancing on thin ice due to the fear of being tormented in his dreams. Payton had stopped seeing if he was alright if he happened to scream himself awake now, but Jeremy knew he was worried. He offered to help Jeremy pay for a therapist, but Jeremy refused- Payton shouldn't have to spend money on him. Plus the whole gang member who helps kill people isn't something he wants to open up to a stranger about.

Not to mention that after that one night with Ben where he lost his stomach contents after a particularly nasty dream, he had always felt a bit of queasiness lingering within him every time Ben invited him over. Of course, alcohol made everything pleasant for a few hours, but lying awake in the darkness after Ben had fallen asleep and their clothes were scattered on the floor made Jeremy feel filthy. His body and mind were getting dirtied day by day, yet Jeremy could never find a way to stop. How disgusting.

Jeremy's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Payton gasping. Jeremy only saw the back of his head, but he knew Payton had the look of fear and was even trembling a little.

"Uh… you OK, four eyes?" Jeremy asked as he took a few steps closer to the couch.

"T-That kid, o-o-on the n-news," Payton stammered, "I-I know t-that last name! Mediano… t-that's the kid w-w-who ripped o-off M-M-Mangle's mask a-and made h-her go c-crazy. S-Shit, Fransisco's g-gonna get f-framed for it, I-I-I know i-it!"

If it made Payton swear, it definitely was serious.

"What are you…" Jeremy muttered as he saw what Payton was watching on TV. It was a news reporter with heavy eye makeup talking directly to the camera. She looked grim and serious, so she certainly wasn't talking about some inspiring story of local courage or a funny new Internet craze.

"...Police are still investigating the home to try to find any possible evidence that could help find the boy, however there has been zero leads as of now," the news anchor spoke solemnly, "The parents say they are willing to pay large rewards to anybody who can successfully help locate the whereabouts of their son."

An image of a young Hispanic boy, no older than ten or eleven, popped up on the screen while the news anchor was still talking. Accompanying the image was the caption that read, " _Julien Granado Mediano, age 11, last seen 07/29 at 10:48 pm."_ There was also a phone number at the bottom of the screen, which Jeremy recognized as the number to the police station.

Before Jeremy could ask Payton about why they'd blame Fransisco, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Jeremy took it out and saw it was Fritz. For once, he wasn't reluctant to pick it up to hear her loud rambles. He set his phone on speaker mode.

"Hey," Jeremy said.

" _Hey, you hear the news?"_ Fritz replied. She sounded worried. " _Things have been mad crazy here."_

"Wait, wait, what's going on?"

" _The Medianos were just here, accusing Fransisco and Mangle of kidnapping their child. Geez, I've never heard Fransisco yell that loudly. The Medianos already have bad blood with us after their brat caused Mangle to go insane. I can kinda see why they'd accuse us, but this can be very bad. Gang wars are crazy stuff, man."_

"You think either of them really did it? I didn't think Mangle can even go outside in her condition."

" _I dunno, but it is a pretty big coincidence that it's the same kid that made her got bat shit crazy. But I don't think she could get there in one night without someone noticing. She's over six feet tall and wears a bunch of jewelery- someone would've had to have seen her. And Fransisco would never go to do such a deed himself; he'd get some of us to do it for him."_

"True. You still at work?"

" _Yeah. Damn, this is too weird to be- shit, my phone's about to die. I should've left the building by now, and Fransisco's gonna kill me for loitering if he catches me now. See you soon."_

Fritz hung up immediately after she stopped talking. Jeremy felt a sense of dread fill him after hearing the news. Payton was now turned around from his position on the couch and looking up at Jeremy. He looked just as worried as Jeremy was.

The microwave dinged with completion. The rain continued to pour outside. The news anchor had moved to a new story by now.

Fransisco raked his fingers through his greasy pulled back hair. A mixture of anxiety and rage fueled his body as he paced frantically behind his desk. One little brat went missing and now the Medianos want his head and it hasn't even been a day. It Fransisco wasn't trying to cause more trouble than he was already in he'd fist fight both of them on the spot.

Ben and Purple were also in the office, Ben leaning on the bookshelf while Purple sat in one of the chairs. Both looked too afraid to say anything to Fransisco without being directly spoken to- something either of them barely ever feel. The three men were all waiting for Cheyenne to return with Maggie.

"How dare those idiots accuse me of such vile acts!" Fransisco groused as he paced, "I was their closest friend not too long ago. How dare they come into _my_ building and accuse me of murder."

"Some people have no manners or awareness of how to be civil," Ben said under his breath.

Fransisco stopped pacing and slammed his fist on the nearby wall. "I'm a lot of things, like a murderer and a crime lord, but I would _never_ lay my hands on a child to hurt them!" he yelled, "They want to tell the police about their deranged accusations, they better be ready for a war. Nobody tries to bite the Fonseco gang and walk out with their teeth still in their mouth!"

Ben focused his mind on something else in the room, as it was obvious talking with Fransisco made things worse. Purple was staying absolutely silent, instead just staring as the floor between his slightly spread legs.

Before Fransisco could start smashing things, Cheyenne returned with Maggie, holding the taller woman's hand as she led her inside. Maggie looked concerned, probably from overhearing Fransisco's raging from the halls. Cheyenne stayed close by her to help keep her calm. Purple raised his head to look at Maggie when she entered. Fransisco also calmed down to avoid upsetting Maggie too much due to her fragile psychological state.

"Hello, Fransisco," Maggie said, smiling wide. Cheyenne glared at Fransisco as a warning to keep down his temper. Blowing up at Maggie would not end well for any of them.

"Hello, Mang... Maggie," Fransisco replied with forced calmness, "How are you doing?"

"Oh, just splendid~! Though I heard something terrible happened, and you need to speak with me. Cheyenne told me."

"Yes, I did want to speak to you, _mi querido_. Now, Purple said he was visiting you last night. Is this true?"

"Why yes, he did. He brought over the most delicious sponge cake from the store and we watched _I Love Lucy_. It was such a grand time~"

Fransisco nodded as Maggie spoke, match her story up with Purple's alibi. "And do you know how long he stayed?" he inquired.

"Oh, I don't know. Until about midnight, maybe twelve-thirty. Time flies when you're having fun~" Maggie replied.

"It does. What did you do after that?"

"I cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed early to get my beauty rest."

"You didn't leave at all after Purple left?"

"Oh no, I was much too indecent to go out in public at that hour."

"Uh huh…" Fransisco said, then turned to Purple, "And you. You just went straight back to your apartment, yes? You've been quiet today."

"I tol' you I did," Purple defended, standing up so he can properly stand his ground, "Check th' security cameras if you hafta. I'm your mos' trusted friend, you said it yourself! Would I lie to you?!"

Everyone was quiet for a little while. Maggie jumped at Purple's snapping, in which Cheyenne held her arm tightly to keep her stable. Fransisco looked down at his desk and sighed. "No... I know you wouldn't," he said, "Everyone is dismissed. But keep quiet about this, and don't let no police search this place or Maggie's place. I'll deal with them later. We're on high alert for any suspicious activity."

Everyone in the room left in silence and headed for the apartment building. Ben lingered a bit longer than the others to wish Fransisco a good day and ask if he was okay, to which Fransisco assured him he was. Ben noticed Cheyenne lean against the wall outside of Maggie's apartment and drag her hands down her face. He went to go meet up with her.

"How are you doing?" Ben asked when he approached Cheyenne.

"Stressed as hell," Cheyenne replied, "You?"

"A bit uneasy, to be honest."

"I hope this is jus' a misunderstandin'. I don't wanna get into a gang war over this."

"We can't risk that. We don't nearly have enough manpower nor control as of now. Countless lives would be lost."

"Maybe it'll blow over soon. I won't let 'em hurt Maggie."

Ben nodded and decided to lean against the wall next to Cheyenne, but not too close so she'd give him a death stare. "It's silly, but could it be possible I'm a sleep murderer?" Ben said.

Cheyenne gave him the strangest and most confused look she could. "What?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"I know, it's foolish. But I a little while ago I had these vivid dreams, yet they're a bit blurry on whether it was real or not."

"Explain."

"Well, I'd wake up, fully-clothed, and I'd go down to the building's basement with bread or water. I'd see these deformed… people, I think, and I remember feeling very disgusted going down there. One had purple hair and no face who I despised the most."

Cheyenne said nothing for several seconds before snickering. "That's it, you're crazy," she said sarcastically, "I'll get you to a mental ward. You're an official sleep murderer."

"See, I told you it was silly. We don't even have a basement in that building."

"Maybe you found a passage to Narnia. But I think I've dreamt about going into a cellar too. Some creature spit in my face or somethin' like that."

"Perhaps our minds are linked through our dreams. We're closer than you'd like, eh?"

"You're full of shit."

Ben chuckled and bid good day to Cheyenne before he headed for the stairwell to go to his home. How strange was it that he and Cheyenne only seemed to get along in serious times.


	18. Breaking Bonds

"Look, I don't wanna be doing this as much as the next guy, but this is pretty serious," Officer Thompson, a middle-aged cop sent to investigate the whereabouts of the missing kid, said, "You sure you don't know anything?"

"I assure you, they're just upset because their brat is missing," Fransisco responded calmly, shifting the cigar in his mouth. Both of them didn't want to have this conversation, since Officer Thompson was an ally of the gang, but Fransisco knew she was just doing her job and he could get into trouble if he didn't comply. It was a most awkward situation.

"Yeah, I know you wouldn't do that. But you know how the chief is about this place and it's history."

Fransisco took the cigar out of his mouth. "Hm?"

"Oh yeah, forgot you're kinda new to the area," Thompson replied, "Well, you know about the murders of '87?"

"Yes, one of my closest members was there when they occurred. Terrible case, it is. Eight dead and not even a hair or finger print of evidence. God bless those poor souls."

"You see, the Chief was related to one of the victims, so he's kinda crazy about this case. He believes that the murderer is still out there, even though it's been a cold case for over twenty years. And with a new murder happening and you're one of the suspects, he probably still thinks that there's hope if he can search the building again."

"Tell him he's crazy," Fransisco scoffed, "It's just a misunderstanding because of an old grudge. It's mere coincidence that the same brat who set off one of my psycho acquaintances is now missing."

Thompson sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "I sure hope so," she said, "Besides, I'm sure he'd love to see that son of a bitch Fitzgerald again. Where is he, anyways?"

"Night shift," Fransisco replied, a smirk crawling up his lips, "I take it you miss him being on your side?"

"Well, he was a damn good cop. If you see him again, tell him to watch his temper; I know he blows up at the drop of a hat."

Fransisco shrugged and stuck his cigar back in his mouth. "He's obedient enough. Besides, he's been pretty quiet lately. Who knows what's eating him up?"

"Probably drinking his problems away like usual."

The pressure from the workplace during the past week was almost unbearable. Fransisco had shut down the business from operating for a few days, as he was too frustrated to deal with people at the time. Jeremy had even heard that Fransisco almost pegged a glass at one of the newbies for telling him a police officer wanted to talk to him. Not to mention that all of the gang members were put on high alert to avoid screwing up to blow Fransisco up. Thankfully, work was basically the same for Jeremy, since he didn't have to deal with anyone at night. \

Additionally, Ben wasn't available for anybody lately, since he was spending time with Fransisco to both keep him calm and not draw any suspicion. Although it wasn't too much of a setback for Jeremy, he still found himself feeling a bit empty from a lack of intimacy. He hated feeling like that.

Jeremy and Payton were spending a Saturday night together watching a hockey game and eating homemade chili Payton made for the both of them. Despite the volume being at a decent level, the two still chatted with each other in between eating.

"You didn't happen to see what the officer looked like, did you?" Jeremy asked after swallowing his mouthful of chili/

"I-I did, a-actually," Payton responded, "I-It was a woman. Mousy r-red hair, f-f-freckles, kind of a-a scratchy voice."

"Amy Thompson," Jeremy concluded. It had been ages since Jeremy had spoken to her- the last time was right before he was kicked out of the police force. Jeremy remembered how she'd always be making crude jokes and had more balls than some of the men on the force. She'd always bring coffee in her own mug that she got from a yard sale years ago. In a way, she reminded him of Fritz. Too bad she shut Jeremy out after he was fired, like the rest of the force.

"S-She seemed anxious," Payton added, "Weird, 'c-cause I thought s-she was f-friends with Fransisco."

"Probably a new development; didn't know she'd befriend a gang leader. Thinking of her makes me wonder what the hell is going on down at the force right now."

"C-Chaos, probably. B-Bet the kid's p-parents are t-threatening all of t-them right n-now."

Jeremy grunted in agreement and shoved more chili in his mouth. He silently ate for another couple of minutes before speaking again. "Thought you and some guys were gonna go to Saint Clarissa's tonight? What happened to that?"

"W-Well, uh, t-those plans were m-made before… y'know."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense Fransisco doesn't want anybody leaving town."

"B-Besides, I h-heard Purple is r-really sick," Payton said, "G-Got a f-fever, I t-think. B-Ben saw him y-yesterday and s-said he was b-bed ridden. P-Poor guy. He w-was gonna l-lead the t-trip out."

"A coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Payton cocked his head at Jeremy. "Huh?"

"That he got sick the day after Fransisco was accused of murder? You don't think he could be faking it?"

Payton shook his head. "No, h-he's actually sick. B-B-Ben even noted h-how he looked uneasy t-the day e-e-everything went t-to crap. Though h-he should be f-fine today or t-tomorrow; it i-is just a little s-stomach bug."

"Yeah…" Jeremy agreed. They finished off their chili and Jeremy washed the dishes since Payton cooked. There wasn't any conversation between the two, just occasional one-word phrases muttered to one another. Both went to bed early that night. Thankfully Jeremy didn't have any nightmares that night, but a powerful rainstorm that suddenly blew in kept him awake for a while.

The next time Jeremy went into work, he managed to catch Ben in the hall while walking to the security office. Ben looked as prim and proper as always, but Jeremy noticed the faint dark circles forming under his eyes. Both of them knew the other was exhausted, like every other gang member lately. Ben smiled softly at Jeremy.

"May I help you,love?" Ben asked, "I was on my way to lock up the front doors and retire to my apartment, and I'd love to get my rest." It was blatantly obvious Ben was barely holding himself together. His jaw and face were stiff and trying desperately not to lose their cool. The smile he wore looked incredibly fake, like a retail worker near the end of a shift.

"Oh, I, uh…" Jeremy said, his words being jumbled, "Just was wondering if you, uh… y'know."

"What? Spit it out."

"Well I mean, get together again."

Ben chuckled and patted Jeremy on the shoulder. "Oh, you miss me that badly?" he teased, "Perhaps in another week or two. My loyalty to Fransisco is always my number one priority, and I can't waste time with someone like you."

"Oh, okay," Jeremy replied quietly, feeling quite embarrassed at his neediness.

"But," Ben whispered at his mouth went up to Jeremy's ear, "Perhaps tomorrow I can give you a few minutes of my time tomorrow. You'd like that, right?" Before Jeremy could really think of a proper response, Ben had started walking in the other direction, leaving the other with a hot face and racing imagination. Even when tired and frustrated, Ben always knew how to weave sentences together like a new sewing machine.

Jeremy went back to the office and settled down in the chair, getting comfortable. He watched Ben leave the dining area after locking and then leave the building. Despite knowing he should stay on alert in case he was caught, he decided to put his head down on the desk. The rhythmic clicking of the fan and faint whir of the monitors running were the only faint sounds in the room, making for a perfect sleeping environment.

However, despite taking a nap earlier, Jeremy was asleep in what seemed like only a minute or two.

Fransisco unlocked his office and stepped inside, letting out a long yawn as he did so. Ben and Cheyenne visited with him last night and Cheyenne made simple martinis for the three in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. Fransisco almost felt guilty about Cheyenne and Ben spending so much time with him lately and stressing themselves out. Yet was also annoyed because he wished he could tell them to go away, though decided against it, due to knowing the two had well intentions.

When he flipped on the lights, a letter sitting on his desk addressed to him greeted him. ' _If I locked up yesterday, how did this get here?'_ he thought to himself, scratching his beard thoughtfully. Perhaps it was some mail he forgot to open yesterday and subconsciously left it on the desk as he was interrupted to go somewhere else. He opened it up with one of his fingers and unfolded the paper that was inside, leaning against the desk as he did so.

" _Dear Fransisco,_

 _I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I said I'd never lie to you, but that in itself was a lie. You trusted me, and I betrayed those few years of trust. But I couldn't resist after what that little brat did to Maggie. He deserved everything that came to him, and watching him struggle was the only way to get retribution for Maggie's long gone sanity. I felt almost happy doing it._

 _Please don't come looking for me. I'm going to be gone from this place forever. I wish you and the gang the best of luck, and maybe now the Medianos will get off your case. Again, I'm sorry._

 _-Your partner and friend, Patrushev Georgiy"_

Fransisco dropped the letter after he finished reading, the paper softly falling to the ground on top of his shoe. With every emotion he's held back over the past few days, he took a bottle of whiskey that sat on a nearby shelf and chucked it at the wall, the pricey liquor exploding and smearing the wall down to the floor.


End file.
